i1  f^N4'H?(ifeAmi!4WW 


tihvavy  of  t:he  theological  ^eminarjp 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 


Stephen  Collins  donation 

BR  315  .T84  1860 
Tulloch,  John,  1823-1886. 
Leaders  of  the  Reformation 


LEADERS 


OF 


THE  REFORMATION 


LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION: 


LUTHER,  CALVIN,  LATIMER,  KNOX, 


THE 


REPRESENTATIVE   MEN 


OP 


GERMANY,  FRANCE,  ENGLAND  AND  SCOTLAND, 


/        BY 

V 

JOHN  TULLOCH,  D.D. 

PRINCIPAL,  AND  PRIMAEIXJS  PROFESSOR  OF  THEOLOGY,  ST.  MART'S  COLLEGE,  ST.  ANDREWS, 
AUTHOR  OF  "theism"  (BURNET  PRIZE  TREATISE),  ETC. 


BOSTON: 

(JOXJLD     AND     LINGO  r.  N, 

59    -WASHINGTON    STREET. 

NEW   YORK:    SUELDON   AND    COMPANY. 

CmClNNATI:  GEOEGE  S.  BLANCHARD. 

1860. 


PRINTED    BJ 
W.     K       DRAPER,    AN  DOVER,    MAI 


PREFATORY  NOTE 


The  substance  of  these  sketches  was  delivered 
in  a  series  of  Lectures  at  the  Edinburgh  Philo- 
sophical Institution  during  the  past  spring.  I 
mention  this  not  to  excuse  their  publication, 
which  I  had  designed  from  the  first,  but  to 
account  for  a  rapidity  and  summariness  of  state- 
ment, and  certain  oral  peculiarities  of  style, 
which  will  be  sufficiently  obvious  here  and  there. 
I  cannot  expect  that  in  their  present  shape,  and 
by  the  general  public,  they  will  be  received  with 
the  same  indulgent  interest  as  they  were  received 
by  the  large  audiences  whose  presence  honored 

their  delivery ;   but  I  trust  they  may  be  found 

1* 


6  PREFATORY     NOTE. 

useful  and  stimulating  studies  of  a  great  period, 
fruitful  in  great  meuj  and  in  lessons  of  enduring 
meaning.  They  are  simply  sketches;  —  as  far  as 
I  could  make  them,  fair  and  accurate  and  living 
sketches,  —  but  nothing  more. 

I  have  been  careful,  and  even  minute,  in  my 
references,  where,  from  the  character  of  the  state- 
ments in  the  text,  I  judged  it  necessary  to  be  so ; 
and  in  some  instances  these  references  may  be 
found  serviceable  by  the  student. 


St.  Mart's  College,  St.  Andrews, 
23d  May,  1859. 


CONTENTS. 


PAOE 

LUTHEll, 11 

CALVIN,           ....                .....  95 

LATIMER, 185 

KNOX, 249 


I. 


LUTHini. 


LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


LUTHER. 

Luther  is  the  most  notable  of  all  the  P^eformers.  His 
name  at  once  starts  the  most  stirring  associations,  and 
leads  into  the  widest  details  and  discussions.  His  work 
was  comparatively  single  and  original  in  its  energy ;  and 
his  life  was  especially  heroic  in  its  proportions,  and  varied 
and  graphic  and  interesting  in  its  incidents.  There  is  a 
grandeur  in  the  whole  subject,  below  which  we  are  apt  to 
feel  that  we  constantly  fall,  particularly  within  the  limits 
of  a  mere  sketch. 

Few  characters  have  been  more  closely  observed,  or  more 
keenly  scrutinized.  There  is  a  breadth  and  intensity  and 
power  of  human  interest  in  the  career  of  the  German  re- 
former, which  have  concentrated  the  attention  both  of 
friend  and  foe  upon  it ;  while  the  careless  freedom  and 
humorous  frankness  with  which  he  himself  has  hfted  the 
veil  and  shown  us  his  inner  life,  have  furnished  abundant 
materials  for  the  one  and  the  other  to  draw  their  portrait 
and  point  then  moral.  I  do  not  know  that  in  all  history 
there  is  any  one  to  whose  true  being,  alike  in  its  strength 
and  weaknesses,  we  get  nearer  than  we  get  to  that  of  Lu- 
ther.    This  is  of  the  very  greatness  of  the  man^  that  from 


12     LEADERS  OP  THE  REFORMATION. 

first  to  last  he  is  an  open-hearted,  honest  German, — undis- 
guised by  education,  unweakened  by  ecclesiasticism,  un- 
softened  by  fame.  "Whatever  faults  he  had  lie  upon  the 
surface:  they  appear  in  all  the  manifestations  of  his  char- 
acter, and  we  have  nowhere  to  search  for  any  secret  or 
double  motives  in  his  conduct  No  one  has  ever  ventured 
to  accuse  him  of  insincerity.  He  lives  before  us  in  all  that 
he  did ;  and  neither  dogmatic  violence  nor  political  neces- 
sity ever  serve  to  hide  from  us  the  genuine  human  heart, 
beating  warm  beneath  all  the  strong  armor  of  controversy, 
or  the  thin  folds  of  occasional  diplomacy. 

The  life  of  Luther  divides  itself  into  two  great  periods, 
which  denote  as  well  an  important  distinction  in  his  work. 
The  first  of  these  periods  terminates  with  the  Diet  of 
Worms  (1521)  and  his  imprisonment  in  the  Wailburg, 
and  is  marked  by  the  striking  series  of  events  which  sig- 
nalize his  education  and  conversion,  his  conflict  about  in- 
dulgences, and  then  his  general  conflict  and  final  breach 
with  Rome.  The  whole  series  falls  naturally  into  three 
main  groups  or  stages  sufficiently  distinct,  yet  of  dispro- 
portionate outline.  The  fii^st  may  be  said  to  extend  to  the 
memorable  year  of  1517,  and  summons  before  our  minds 
a  varied  and  graphic  succession  of  pictures  —  the  boy  at 
Mansfield,  the  scholar  at  Eisenach,  the  student  and  monk 
at  Erfurt,  the  pilgrim  to  Rome,  the  professor  and  preacher 
at  Wittenberg.  The  second  stage,  with  all  its  peculiar 
significance,  is  a  very  rapid  one,  lasting  exactly  a  year,  from 
October  1517,  when  he  posted  the  ninety-five  theses  on 
the  gates  of  the  Church  of  All  Saints,  to  October  1518, 
when  he  fled  by  night  from  Augsburg,  after  his  unsuccess- 
ful interview  with  the    Legate^   Cajetan.     The    third   is 

1  Thomas  de  Vio,  Cardinal  of  Cajetan. 


LUTHER.  13 

traced  in  its  successive  steps  by  the  Leipzig  Disputation, 
July  1519;  the  burning  of  the  Papal  Bull,  December  1520; 
and,  finally,  the  Diet  of  Worms,  April  1521. 

Bet^veen  these  several  stages  of  the  reformer's  career 
there  is  an  intimate  natural  connection  —  a  connection  not 
merely  accidental,  but,  so  to  speak,  logical,  in  the  manner 
in  which  they  folloAV  one  another.  They  arise,  the  later 
from  the  preceding,  by  a  sure  process  of  ratioual  and  spir- 
itual expansion,  issuing  in  order  like  the  evolving  steps  of 
a  great  argument,  or  the  unfolding  scenes  of  a  great  drama, 
or  like  both  together,  —  preseuting  a  marvellous  combina- 
tion at  once  of  logical  consistency  and  dramatic  effect.  It 
is  of  great  importance,  therefore,  to  understand  the  princi- 
ple and  ground  of  the  whole,  as  portrayed  in  the  struggles 
and  experience  of  the  first  part  of  his  life.  The  convent 
at  Erfurt  is  the  significant  prologue  to  the  whole  drama. 

Luther  was  born  at  Eisleben  on  the  evening  of  the  10th 
of  December,  1483.  His  parents  were  poor — his  father, 
John  Luther,  being  a  miner ;  his  mother,  Margaret,  a  peas- 
ant. Humble  in  their  circumstances,  they  were  both  of 
superior  intelligence  and  character.  The  father  was  a 
diligent  reader  of  whatever  books  came  within  his  reach, 
and  had  his  own  somewhat  immovable  convictions  as  to 
life  and  duty  ;  the  mother  was  esteemed  by  all  her  honest 
co-matrons  as  peculiarly  exemplary  in  her  conduct  —  ut  i?i 
exemplar  virtutimi,  as  Melancthon  says.  The  story  is,  that 
they  had  gone  to  Eisleben  to  attend  a  fair,  when  their  son 
was  unexpectedly  born  on  the  eve  of  St,  Martin.  The 
very  next  day  he  was  carried  to  the  Church  of  St  Peter, 
and  baptized  by  the  name  of  tlie  saint  on  whose  day  he 
had  seen  the  light.  Shortly  after  Luther's  birth,  liis  parents 
removed  to  Mansfield,  where,  by  industry  and  perseverance, 
his  father's  worldly  circumstances  improved.     He  became 


14     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

the  owner  of  two  small  furnaces,  and  was  elevated  to 
some  civic  dignity  in  the  town  of  the  district.  Here,  in 
the  "  Latin  school,"  the  young  Martin  first  began  to  expe 
rience  the  hardships  of  life.  He  appears  to  have  been 
a  somewhat  unruly  boy,  or  the  school  discipline  must  have 
been  of  a  very  savage  description.  He  is  said  to  have 
been  flogged  by  his  master  fifteen  times  in  one  day ;  and 
wdhle  the  scholastic  rod  thus  weighed  heavily  upon  him, 
the  parental  rod  was  not  spared.  Neither  father  nor 
mother  nursed  the  boy  in  softness.  He  himself  gives  us 
rather  an  unpleasant  glimpse  of  the  domestic  discipline. 
"  He  was  whipped  for  a  mere  trifle,"  he  says,  "  till  the 
blood  came."  But  then,  as  a  companion  picture,  serving 
to  reheve  by  its  bright  tenderness  the  severity  of  the  other, 
we  are  told  of  the  father  carrying  the  Httle  Martin  to 
school  in  his  arms,  and  bringing  him  back  in  the  same 
manner. 

Having  got  all  the  schooling  he  could  get  at  Mansfield, 
he  went  first  to  the  school  of  the  Franciscans  at  Magde- 
burg, and  then  nearer  home  to  Eisenach.  It  was  in  the 
latter  place,  while  singing  in  the  streets  for  bread,  accord- 
ing to  a  common  practice  of  the  German  schoolboys,  that 
his  fair  appearance  and  sweet  voice  attracted  the  notice 
of  a  good  lady  of  the  name  of  Cotta,  who  provided  him 
henceforth,  during  his  stay  at  school,  with  a  comfortable 
home.  Luther,  in  after  years,  recalled  his  school  days  with 
all  the  zest  of  his  genial  and  affectionate  nature,  and  used, 
in  his  famihar  house-sermons,  to  exhort  his  hearers  "never 
o  despise  the  poor  boys  who  sing  at  their  doors,  and  asked 
bread  for  the  love  of  God."  He  would  even  illustrate  the 
advantage  of  prayer  by  a  humorous  story  drawn  from  his 
experience  as  a  street-singer.  "  Importunity  in  prayer," 
he  says,  "  will  always  bring  down  from  heaven  the  blessins; 


LUTHER.  15 

sought.  Hov/  well  do  I  remember  singing  once  as  a  boy 
before  tlie  house  of  a  rich  man,  and  entreating  very  hard 
for  some  bread.  At  last  the  man  of  the  house  came 
nmning  out,  crying  aloud,  '  Where  are  you,  you  knaves?' 
We  all  took  to  our  heels,  for  we  thought  we  had  angered 
him  l)y  our  importunity,  and  he  was  going  to  beat  us ;  but 
he  called  us  Ijack  and  gave  us  two  loaves."^ 

On  his  reaching  his  eighteenth  year,  it  became  a  ques- 
tion to  what  profession  he  should  devote  himself  His 
father's  ambition  was  excited  by  his  talents,  and  the  law 
seemed  the  most  likely  avenue  by  which  these  talents 
could  carry  him  to  distinction  and  emolument.  He  accord- 
ingly entered  the  university  of  Erfurt,  then  the  most  dis- 
tinguished in  Germany,  with  the  view  of  preparing  himself 
for  the  legal  profession.  There  he  studied  philosophy  in 
the  writings  of  the  schoolmen,  and  perfected  his  classical 
knowledge,  in  the  pages  of  Cicero  and  Virgil.  Even  thus 
early  the  barren  subtleties  of  the  scholastic  philosophy 
rather  repelled  than  interested  him.  They  left,  however, 
a  permanent  influence  on  his  intellectual  character.  He 
took  his  degree  of  Doctor  of  Philosophy  or  Master  of  Arts 
in  1505,  when  he  was  twenty-two  years  of  age,  and  the 
event,  according  to  custom,  was  celebrated  by  a  torchhght 
procession  and  great  rejoicing. 

But,  before  this  event,  he  had  begun  an  education  of  a 
far  more  real  and  profound  character  than  any  that  the 
university  could  impart  to  him.  One  day,  as  he  was  turn- 
ing over  the  books  in  the  university  library,  he  fell  upon  a 
copy  of  the  Vulgate.  He  beheld  with  astonishment  that 
there  were  more  gospels  and  epistles  than  in  the  lection- 
arics.     A  new  world  opened  upon  him ;  he  returned  again 

i  Iljiise-Postils  Wiilch,  xiii,  535;  quoted  by  Worsley,  Life  of  Luther,  i.  41. 


16     LEADERS  OF  THE  REEORMATION. 

and  again  with  avidity  to  the  sacred  page,  and,  as  lie  read, 
his  heart  burned  ^vithin  him.  Several  circumstances  served 
to  deepen  these  feelings,  —  a  dangerous  sickness,  which 
brought  him  near  to  the  point  of  death,  and  the  decease 
of  a  friend  of  the  name  of  Alexis,  accompanied,  or  at  least 
somehow  deeply  associated  in  his  mind,  with  a  dreadful 
thunder  storm,  to  which  he  was  exposed  on  his  return  to 
Erfurt,  after  a  visit  to  his  parents.  This  latter  event 
especially  made  a  powerful  impression  upon  him.  The 
common  version  of  the  story  ^  is,  that  the  lightning  struck 
his  fiiend  by  his  side  as  they  journeyed  together,  and  that 
Luther  was  so  appalled  by  the  disaster  that  he  fell  upon 
his  knees  in  prayer,  and  resolved,  if  spared,  to  dedicate 
himself  to  the  service  of  God.  The  story  is  at  least  a  fair 
tribute  to  the  child-like  piety  that  novv^  and  always  ani- 
mated liim.  He  kept  his  resolve,  silent  and  apparently 
unmoved  for  some  time,  yet  cherishing  it  in  his  heart. 
His  mode  of  carrying  it  oat  was  characteristic.  One  even- 
ing he  invites  some  of  his  fellow-students  to  supper,  gives 
them  of  his  best  clieer ;  music  and  jest  enliven  the  com- 
jDany,  and  the  entertainment  closes  in  a  full  burst  of  merri- 
ment. The  same  night  there  is  a  solitary  knock  at  the  door 
of  the  Augustine  convent,  and  the  student  who  has  just 
gayly  parted  from  his  companions,  two  volumes  alone  of 
all  his  books  in  his  hand,  —  a  Virgil  and  a  Plautus, — 
passes  beneath  its  portal.  He  has  separated  from  the 
Vv'orld,  and  devoted  himself  to  God,  as  he  and  the  world 
then  understood  devotion. 

The  three  years  which  Luther  now  spent  in  the  con- 
vent at  Erfurt  are  among  the  most  signal  and  significant 
of  his  hfe.     During  these  years   were   laid   deep   in   his 

'  It  is  supposed  to  mingle  together  two  events. 


LUTHER.  17 

heart  those  spiritual  convictions  out  of  which  his  whole 
reforming  work  sprang  and  grew  into  shape.  The  sparks 
which  were  afterwards  to  explode  in  the  overthrow  of  the 
Papacy,  and  to  hghten  up  into  the  glory  of  a  restored 
gospel,  were  here  kindled.  The  struggle  for  which  Ger- 
many was  preparing  was  here  rehearsed  in  the  single  soul 
of  a  solitary  monk.  It  is  a  painful  and  somewhat  sad 
spectacle  ;  but  it  possesses  not  only  the  interest  of  an 
earnest  individual  struggle,  but  the  sublimity  of  a  prelude 
to  the  great  national  conflict  which  was  impending. 

It  was  Luther's  duty,  as  a  novice,  to  perform  the  meanest 
offices  in  the  convent.  He  had  chosen  his  lot,  and  he  was 
not  the  man  to  shrink  from  its  mere  servile  hardships ;  so 
he  swept  the  floors,  and  "wound  the  clock,  and  ministered 
in  various  ways  to  the  laziness  of  his  brother  monks.  He 
was  even  driven  to  liis  old  trade  of  street-begging,  as 
they  assailed  him  with  their  doggrel  cry,  "  Sackum  per 
nackum "  — "  Go  through  the  streets  Avitli  the  sack,  and 
get  us  what  you  can  to  eat."  After  a  while,  and  by  the 
friendly  interference  of  the  university  in  his  favor,  he  was 
able  to  resume  his  studies.  Augustine  and  the  Bible  on 
the  one  hand,  and  Occam  and  Gerson  on  the  other,  shared 
his  attention,  and  we  are  left  vaguely  to  guess  what  seeds 
of  divine  truth  from  the  one,  and  of  papal  disaffection  from 
the  other,  were  sown  in  his  mind.  All  was  as  yet  chaos 
in  his  spiritual  condition.  The  darkness  had  been  stnred 
within  him,  and  a  profound  uneasiness  produced,  but  no 
ray  of  light  yet  rested  on  it.  By  fasting  and  prayer,  and 
every  species  of  monkish  penance,  he  labored  to  satisfy 
his  conscience  and  secure  his  salvation.  "  If  ever  monk 
could  have  got  to  heaven  by  monkery,"  he  afterwards  said, 
"  I  might  have  done  so.  I  wore  out  my  body  -with  watch- 
ing, fasting,  praying,  and  other  works."  He  was  some- 
2* 


18     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

times  for  four  days  together  without  meat  or  drink.  But 
all  his  labors  and  mortifications  brought  him  no  peace. 
The  terrors  of  guilt  haunted  him  as  a  bodily  presence  — 
clung  to  him  as  a  pursuing  shadow;  so  that  one  day,  at 
mass,  he  cried  out,  as  some  dire  aspect  of  wrath  rose  up 
before  him,  "  It  is  not  I !  it  is  not  I ! "  On  another  occasion 
he  disappeared  for  certain  days  and  nights;  alarm  was 
excited,  his  cell  door  was  broken  open,  and  he  was  found 
prostrate  on  the  floor,  in  a  state  of  helpless  emaciation, 
unconscious,  and  apparently  dead,  till  roused  by  the  chant- 
ing of  the  young  choristers.  The  one  human  influence,  to 
which  he  was  never  insensible,  moved  him  when  every- 
thing else  had  failed.  Now  and  always,  music  had  a 
charm  for  him  only  second  to  theology.  "It  is  the  only 
other  art,"  he  says,  "which,  like  theology,  can  calm  the 
agitations  of  the  soul,  and  put  the  devil  to  flight." 

At  length  hght  began  to  dawn  upon  him.  The  Vicar- 
general  of  the  Augustines  came  on  a  visit  of  inspection  to 
the  convent  at  Erfurt.  Staupitz  is  one  of  those  characters 
who,  amid  the  prevailing  unworthiness  of  the  Romish 
clergy  of  the  time,  stands  out  as  a  remarkable  and  most 
honorable  exception.  Of  clear  intelligence,  simple  and 
affectionate  feelings,  and  most  real  and  living  piety,  he 
reflects,  no  doubt,  the  brightest  side  of  the  system  which 
he  represented;  but  it  is  well  for  us  to  remember  that  it 
had  a  bright  side,  and  that,  saving  for  this,  Luther  and  his 
work  might  never  have  been  what  they  were.  With  char- 
acteristic frankness,  the  reformer  never  ceased  to  confess 
his  spiritual  obligations  to  the  head  of  his  order.  "  Through 
him,"  he  said,  "  the  light  of  the  gospel  first  dawned  out  of 
the  darkness  on  my  heart."  Touched  by  the  undisguised 
zeal  and  grave  and  melancholy  looks  of  the  young  monk, 
Staupitz  sought  his  confidence.     Luther  unbosomed  him- 


LUTHER.  19 

self.  "  It  is  in  vain,"  he  said,  "  that  I  promise  to  God ;  sin 
is  always  too  strong  for  mc."  —  "I  have  myself,"  Staupitz 
replied,  "  vowed  more  than  a  thousand  times  to  lead  a  holy 
life,  and  as  often  broken  my  vows.  I  now  trust  only  in 
the  mercy  and  grace  of  God  in  Christ."  The  monk  spoke 
of  his  fears  —  of  the  terrors  of  guilt  that  haunted  him, 
and  made  him  wretched  amidst  all  his  mortifications. 
'•'  Look  at  the  wounds  of  Christ,"  said  the  Vicar-general ; 
"  see  the  Saviour  bleeding  upon  the  cross,  and  believe  in 
the  mercy  of  God." — Surely  a  brave  and  true  gospel, 
speaking  from  the  bosom  of  the  old  and  corrupting  hie- 
rarchy to  the  heart  of  the  nascent  and  reviving  faith  ! 
Luther  further  deplored  the  inefficacy  of  all  his  works  of 
repentance.  "  There  is  no  true  repentance,"  answered 
Staupitz,  "  but  that  which  begins  in  the  love  of  God  and 
of  righteousness.  Conversion  does  not  come  from  such 
works  as  you  have  been  practising.  Love  Him  iclio  has 
first  loved  your  There  was  comfort  in  such  words  to  the 
heart  of  the  weary  monk.  The  darkness  began  to  clear 
away;  but  again  and  again  it  returned,  and  the  struggle 
went  on.  "  Oh  my  sins !  my  sins  I "  he  exclaimed,  in 
■writing  to  the  Vicar-general.  "  It  is  just  your  sins  that 
make  you  an  object  of  salvation,"  was  the  virtual  reply. 
"Would  you  be  only  the  semblance  of  a  sinner,  and  have 
only  the  semblance  of  a  Saviour?  Jesus  Christ  is  the 
Saviour  of  those  who  are  real  and  great  sinners."  To 
these  precious  counsels  Staupitz  added  the  present  of  a 
Bible ;  and  Luther,  rejoicing  in  its  possession,  devoted 
himself  more  than  ever  to  its  study.  Gradually  the  truth 
dawned  upon  him  as  he  nourished  himself  upon  Scripture 
and  St.  Augustine.  Still  he  had  not  attained  a  clear  and 
firm  footing!  A  renewed  sickness,  brought  on  by  the 
severity  of  his  mortifications,  brought  back  his  old  terrors. 


20     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

God  seemed  an  offended  judge  ready  to  condemn  him,  and 
he  lay  misemble  in  'his  fears,  when  an  aged  monk,  who 
had  come  to  see  him,  sought  to  console  him  by  repeating 
the  words  of  the  creed,  "  I  believe  in  the  forgiveness  of 
sins."  Lnther  caught  at  the  words.  The  monk  pressed 
the  point  by  urging  that  it  was  necessary  to  believe  not 
only  that  David's  or  Peter's  sins  were  forgiven,  but  that 
his  own  sins  were  forgiven.  From  this  time  the  doctrine 
of  grace  was  clearly  seen  by  him.  His  soul  passed  into 
its  bright  hght.  The  confusions  which  had  rested  on  the 
language  of  Scripture  cleared  away.  "  I  saw  the  Scrip- 
ture in  an  entirely  new  hght,"  he  says,  "  and  straightway 
I  felt  as  if  I  were  born  anew ;  it  was  as  if  I  had  found  the 
door  of  Paradise  thrown  wide  open." 

Thus  Luther  fought  his  way  step  by  step  to  the  freedom 
of  the  gospel ;  from  hard  and  painful  asceticism  to  des- 
pair of  holiness  by  any  such  means,  and  then  from  the 
very  depths  of  this  despair  to  the  comfort  and  gladness  of 
a  free  salvation  in  Christ,  as  preached  to  him  by  Staupitz 
and  the  aged  monk.  By  the  end  of  his  stay  at  Erfurt  his 
Christian  convictions  were  well  matured,  although  he  was 
still  far,  and  for  many  years  after  this  still  far,  from  seeing 
their  full  bearing,  and  the  inevitable  conclusions  to  which 
they  led. 

In  the  year  1507  he  was  ordained  a  priest,  and  in  the 
following  year  he  removed  to  Wittenberg,  where  the 
Elector  Frederick  of  Saxony  had  recently  planted  a  uni- 
versity, destined  to  be  memorably  associated  with  the 
reformer.  If  Erfurt  be  the  cradle  of  the  Reformation,  Wit- 
tenberg was  its  seminaiy  and  the  chief  seat  of  its  triumph  ; 
and  the  old  Augustine  convent  there,  even  more  than  that 
at  Erfurt,  gathers  to  itself  a  stirring  and  glorious,  if  some- 
what less  solemn  interest. 


LUTHER.  21 

At  first  Luther  lectured  on  dialectics  and  physics,  but 
with  little  good-will.  His  heart  was  already  in  theology  — 
that  theology  "  which  seeks  out  the  kernel  from  the  nut, 
and  the  flour  from  the  wheat,  and  the  marrow  from  the 
bones."  In  1509  he  became  a  bachelor  of  theology,  and 
immediately  began  lecturing  on  the  holy  Scriptures.  His 
lectures  produced  a  powerful  impression  by  tlie  novelty  of 
their  views  and  the  boldness  of  his  advocacy  of  them. 
''  This  monk,"  remarked  the  rector  of  the  university/  "  will 
puzzle  all  our  doctors,  and  bring  in  a  new  doctrine,  and  re- 
form the  whole  Roman  Church,  for  he  takes  his  stand  on 
the  writings  of  the  apostles  and  prophets,  and  on  the  word 
of  Jesus  Christ."  On  such  truly  Protestant  ground  he 
already  stood,  although  he  called  himself  after  this,  and 
truly  enough,  so  far  as  all  practical  recognition  of  his  posi- 
tion was  concerned,  a  "  most  insane  Papist." 

From  lecturing  he  passed  to  preaching,  although  here,  as 
at  every  step,  with  a  struggle.  He  had  an  awful  feeling  of 
the  responsibility  of  speaking  to  the  people  in  God's  stead, 
and  it  required  the  urgent  remonstrance  of  Staupitz  to 
make  him  ascend  the  pulpit.  He  began  his  career  as  a 
preacher  in  the  small  chapel  of  the  convent,  a  mean  build- 
ing of  wood,  thirty  feet  long  and  twenty  feet  broad,  de- 
cayed and  falling  to  pieces.  There  for  the  first  time  was 
heard  that  mighty  voice  which  at  length  shook  the  world. 
His  words,  Melancthon  said,  were  "born,  not  on  his  lips, 
but  in  his  soul ;  "^  they  sprang  from  a  profoundly  awakened 
feeling  of  the  truth  of  what  he  spake,  and  kindled  a  cor- 
responding feeling.  They  moved  the  hearts  of  all  who 
heard  them,  as  they  had  never  been  moved  before  ;  and 


1  Dr.  Martin  Pollich  of  Jletriclistadt. 

2  Non  nasci  in  lubris  seel  pectore. 


22 


LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 


veiy  soon  the  creaking  and  mouldy  timbers  of  the  old  edi- 
fice were  altogether  unable  to  contain  the  niimbers  who 
thronged  to  hear  him.  He  was  invited  by  the  town  coun- 
cil to  preach  in  the  parish  church,  and  there  his  burning 
words  reached  a  much  more  general  and  influential  audi- 
ence. 

One  important  element  in  the  education  of  the  reformer 
still  remains  to  be  mentioned.  He  was  destined  to  see  and 
study  the  Papacy  in  the  very  centre  of  its  power  — in  its 
full-blowai  magnificence  in  Rome.  In  the  year  1510  — 
some  say  1511  —  he  went  on  a  mission  to  this  city.^  What 
he  saw  and  heard  there,  made  an  inefl'aceable  impression 
upon  him,  although  it  did  not  produce  any  immediate 
result.  "  I  would  not  take  a  hundred  thousand  florins," 
he  afterwards  said,  "  not  to  have  seen  Home.  I  have  said 
many  masses  there,  and  heard  many  said,  so  that  I  shudder 
when  I  think  of  it.  There  I  heard,  among  other  coarse 
jests,  courtiers  laughing  at  table,  and  bragging  that  some 
said  mass  and  repeated  these  words  over  the  bread  and 
wine :  Panis  es,  Pmiis  manehis ;  Vimim  es,  Ymimi  manehisr 
For  the  time,  however,  the  fervor  of  his  monastic  devo- 
tion burned  bright  amid  all  this  blasphemy.  He  ran  the 
round  of  all  the  churches,  and  behoved  all  the  lying  le- 
gends repeated  to  him.  It  even  passed  tln-ough  his  mind 
as  a  regret  that  his  parents  were  still  living,  as  otherwise  he 
might  have  wrought  their  dehverance  from  purgatory  by  his 
masses  and  penances.  He  tried  to  mount  the  Scala  Sancta 
(Pilate's  staircase,  miraculously  transported  from  Jerusa- 
lem) on  his  knees,  and  yet  (strange  evidence  of  the  con- 
flict raging  in  his  heart),  as  he  essayed  the  painful  task,  a 

1  The  nature  of  the  mission  is  not  exactly  ascertained.  It  is  supposed  to 
have  been  partly  connected  with  the  interests  of  his  order,  and  partly  in  ful- 
filment of  a  vow. 


LUTHER.  23 

voice  of  thunder  kept  shouting  to  him,  ''The  just  shall  live 
hy  faith  I " 

A  further  and  last  step  of  academical  honor  awaited  him 
on  his  return.  He  was  created  a  Doctor  in  the  holy  Scrip- 
tures in  the  year  1512,  and  the  oath  which,  on  this  occasion, 
he  solemnly  SAVore  on  the  Bible,  to  study  and  preacli  it  all 
liisHfe,  and  maintain  the  Christian  faith  against  all  heretics, 
is  said  to  have  been  often  afterwards  a  source  of  comfort  to 
him  in  the  great  crisis  of  liis  work. 

And  now  our  reformer's  education  was  nearly  complete, 
while  everything  was  preparing  for  the  approaching  strug- 
gle. Some  visits  of  inspection,  which  he  made  in  the  place 
of  Staupitz,  to  the  Augustine  convents,  served  still  more  to 
awaken  his  feeling  of  the  need  of  reform,  and  to  call  forth 
his  activity  and  practical  abihties.  "  The  whole  ground," 
he  complained,  "  was  covered,  nay,  heaped  up,  with  the 
rubbish  of  all  manner  of  strange  doctrines  and  superstitions, 
so  that  the  word  of  truth  can  barely  shine  through ;  nay,  in 
many  places  not  a  ray  of  it  is  visible."  The  train  of  con- 
viction was  thus  fully  laid ;  the  impulse  and  power  of  re- 
form v/ere  fully  prepared.  It  only  required  a  spark  to 
kindle  the  train  —  some  special  excitement  to  call  forth  the 
energy  still  slumbering,  but  all  ready  and  furnished  for  the 
struggle.  Could  Rome  only  have  penetrated  beneath  the 
surface  at  tliis  moment,  and  seen  what  a  deep  tremor  and 
current  agitated  the  German  mind,  —  how  light  had  begun 
to  peer  through  unnumbered  chinks  of  the  old  sacerdotal 
edifice,  revealing  not  only  its  weak  defences,  but  the  vile 
and  unclean  thing  within,  —  how  warily  would  she  have 
acted!  But  the  blindness  of  decay  had  struck  her, — 
falsehood  had  eaten  away  her  judgment,  as  well  as  under- 
mined her  strength,  and  foolishly,  nay,  madly,  she  went 
staggering  on  to  her  overthrow. 


24     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

The  system  of  indulgences  was  a  natural  growth  out  of 
the  general  system  of  penance,  —  it  rested  on  the  same 
fundamental  falsehood.  So  soon  as  the  purely  spiritual 
character  of  repentance  became  obscured,  and  the  idea  of 
sin  as  an  outward  accident  within  the  control  of  the 
church,  rather  llian  an  inward  and  spiritual  fact,  began  to 
prevail,  there  was  obviously  no  limit  to  the  growth  of 
ecclesiastical  corruption.  If  the  church  possessed  the 
power  of  freeing  the  sinner  fiom  the  consequences  of  his 
sins,  it  was  a  mere  development  of  this  principle  that  the 
Pope,  as  the  head  and  sum  of  the  church,  should  possess 
this  power  in  an  eminent  degree  ;  and  Avhen  attention  was 
once  fixed  on  the  mere  externals  of  penance,  it  was  only 
a  fair  logical  conclusion  that  these  externals  could  be 
appointed  and  regulated  by  the  Pope  at  pleasure.  The 
steps  of  the  degradation  are  plainly  marked,  from  the 
recognition  of  outward  satisfaction  as  a  condition  of  salva- 
tion, to  the  substitution  of  mortifications,  pilgrimages,  etc., 
as  exhausting  the  demand  of  the  church,  and  then,  as  the 
moral  feeling  sank  and  the  hierarchical  spirit  rose,  to  a 
payment  of  money  in  place  of  actual  service  of  any  kind. 
Once  materialize  the  spiritual  truth,  and  gradually  the 
material  accident  will  become  everything,  and  not  only 
substitute  itself  in  place  of  that  truth,  but  necessarily  pass 
from  one  degraded  form  to  another,  till  it  find  its  last  and 
summary  expression  in  money  —  money  being  always  the 
brief  and  convenient  representative  of  all  mere  external 
■work.  In  so  far  as  there  v/as  anything  distinct  in  the 
character  of  indulgences,  they  were  worse  than  even  the 
general  system  of  which  they  formed  a  part.  While  pen- 
ance and  priestly  absolution,  corrupted  as  they  had  become, 
confessedly  rested  upon  the  merits  of  Christ,  and  were 
held  to  imply  contrition  in  the  ofiender,  indulgences  were 


LUTHER.  25 

rested  upon  the  special  doctrine  of  the  treasure  of  the 
church  or  the  overflowing  merits  of  the  saints,  and  Avere, 
in  some  of  their  forms,  confessedly  dispensed  irrespective 
of  the  moral  condition  of  the  recipient.  Regular  ordina- 
tion, moreover,  was  a  requirement  of  the  one  system; 
whereas  indulgence  was  arrogated  by  the  Pope,  as  his 
peculiar  privilege,  and  could  be  exercised  at  will  by  any 
one  nominated  by  him.^ 

It  may  be  easily  imagined  what  a  system  this  was  in 
the  hands  of  an  unscrujmlous  and  low-minded  agent ;  and 
such  an  agent,  of  the  worst  description,  it  was  the  misfor- 
tune of  Eome  to  send  abroad  at  this  time  through  Ger- 
many. At  Jiiterbock,  a  few  miles  from  Wittenberg  and 
the  borders  of  Saxony,  which  the  Elector  had  refused  him 
permission  to  enter,  John  Tetzel,  a  Dominican  friar,  estab- 
hshed  himself  for  the  sale  of  the  papal  indulgences.  A 
shameless  traffic  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  man  con- 
spicuous for  shamelessness  of  tongue,  and  who  scrupled 
not  at  any  blasphemy  to  exalt  the  value  of  his  wares.  As 
the  dispenser  of  the  treasure  of  the  church,  he  claimed  to 
be  on  a  level  with  St.  Peter,  and  even  to  have  saved  more 
souls  than  the  apostle.  Distinguished  by  an  unblushing 
countenance  and  stentorian  voice,  with  the  papal  red  cross 
borne  aloft,  the  papal  brief  prominently  displayed  to  view, 
and  the  money-counter  before  him,  he  proclaimed  aloud 
the  merits  of  his  paper  pardons;   while  his  companion, 

1  The  alleged  object  of  the  plenary  indulgence  was  to  contribute  to  the 
completion  of  the  Vatican  Basilica,  and  its  vaunted  effect  Avas  to  restore  the 
possessor  to  the  grace  of  God,  and  completely  exempt  him  from  the  punish- 
ment of  purgatory.  There  were,  however,  lesser  forms  of  the  papal  blessing 
capable  of  procuring  lesser  favors.  For  the  plenary  indulgence,  the  neces- 
sity of  confession  and  contrition  was  acknowledged  ;  "  the  others  could  be 
obtained,  without  contrition  or  confession,  by  money  alone."  —  RajNke, 
vol.  i.  p.  335. 

3 


26     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

Friar  Bartholomew,  shouted  always,  as  he  closed,  "  Come 
and  buy !  come  and  buy !  "  His  mingled  impudence  and 
impiety  almost  baffle  belief.  He  even  went  the  length  of 
saying,  that  "  when  one  dropped  a  penny  into  the  box  for 
a  soul  in  purgatory,  so  soon  as  the  money  chinked  in  the 
chest  the  soul  flew  up  to  heaven." 

When  Luther  heard  what  was  going  on  in  his  neighbor- 
hood, we  can  understand  how  his  spirit  was  stirred  in  him. 
At  fljst,  indeed,  and  before  the  full  enormities  of  the 
system  became  manifest,  he  seems  to  have  taken  it  some- 
what quietly.  "  He  began,"  he  himself  says,  "  to  preach 
with  great  moderation,  that  they  might  do  something  better 
and  more  certain  than  buying  pardons."  But  when  he 
saw  the  practical  influence  of  the  traffic  on  the  members 
of  his  own  flock,  and  heard  of  Tetzel's  blasphemies,  his 
whole  soul  was  roused,  and  he  exclaimed,  "  God  Avilling,  I 
will  beat  a  hole  in  his  drum."  He  felt  the  necessity  of 
taking  some  decided  step,  as  no  one  else  seemed  disposed 
to  interfere.  He  took  counsel  with  God  and  his  own  heart, 
with  none  besides;  and  on  the  eve  of  All  Saints,  when 
the  relics,  collected  with  great  pains  by  Frederick  for  his 
favorite  church,  were  exposed  to  view,  and  multitudes 
thronged  to  gaze  on  them,  Luther  appeared  among  the 
crowd,  and  nailed  on  the  gate  of  the  church  his  ninety-five 
theses  on  the  doctrine  of  indulgences,  which  he  offered  to 
maintain  in  the  university,  against  all  opponents,  by  word 
of  mouth  or  in  writing.  These  famous  propositions  gen- 
erally asserted  the  necessity  of  spiritual  repentance,  and 
hmited  the  dispensing  power  of  the  Pope  to  those  penal- 
ties imposed  by  himself  They  did  riot  absolutely  deny 
the  doctrine  of  the  treasure  of  the  church,  but  only  the 
sole  authority  of  the  Pope  over  this  treasure,  and  altogether 
denied  that  this  treasure  had  any  power  to  absolve  the 


LUTHER.  27 

sinner,  without  contrition  and  amendment  on  his  part. 
"  If  the  sinner  had  true  contrition,  he  received  complete 
forgiveness  ;  if  he  had  it  not,  no  brief  of  indulgence  could 
avail  him ;  for  the  Pope's  absolution  had  no  value  in  and 
for  itself,  but  only  in  so  far  as  it  was  a  mark 'of  divine 
favor." 

The  publication  of  these  theses  is  commonly  considered 
the  starting-point  of  the  Reformation.  The  excitement 
produced  by  them  was  intense  and  wide-spread.  Luther's 
diocesan,  the  Bishop  of  Brandenburg,  a  good,  easy  man, 
expressed  sympathy,  but  counselled  silence  for  peace's 
sake.  Silence,  however,  was  now  no  longer  possible. 
Everywhere  the  excited  popular  feeling  caught  up  the 
bold  notes  of  defiance.  It  seemed,  in  the  words  of  Myco- 
nius,  "  as  if  the  angels  themselves  had  carried  them  to  the 
ears  of  all  men."  The  excitement  grew  and  strengthened, 
and  sympathetic  voices  were  heard  through  all  Germany. 
Tetzel  retreated  to  Frankfort-on-the-Oder,  and  with  the 
assistance  of  a  Dr.  Whimpina,  drew  out  a  set  of  counter- 
theses,  while  he  publicly  committed  those  of  Luther  to  the 
flames.  But  this  was  a  game  easily  played  at;  and  the 
students  at  Wittenberg  retaliated,  by  seizing  the  messen- 
ger bearing  the  counter-theses,  and  burning  them  in  the 
marketplace.  Frederick  of  Saxony  refused  to  interfere. 
He  did  not  encourage,  he  did  not  even  promise  to  protect ; 
but,  what  was  the  very  best  thing  he  could  do,  he  let 
things  take  their  course.  Yet,  if  the  story  of  his  dream 
be  true,  he  must  have  had  his  own  thoughts  about  the 
matter.  It  is  told  that  on  the  night  of  All  Saints,  just  after 
the  theses  were  posted  on  the  church  doors,  he  lay  at  his 
castle  of  Scheinitz,  six  leagues  distant,  and  as  he  was 
pondering  how  to  keep  the  festival,  he  fell  asleep,  and 
dreamed  that  he  saw  the  monk  writing  certain  propositions 


28     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

on  the  chapel  of  the  castle  at  Wittenberg,  in  so  large  a 
hand  that  it  conld  be  read  at  Scheinitz  ;  the  pen  began  to 
expand  as  he  looked,  and  gradually  grew  longer  and 
longer,  till  at  last  it  reached  to  Rome,  touched  the  Pope's 
triple  crown,  and  made  it  totter.  He  inquired  of  the  monk 
where  he  had  got  such  a  pen,  and  was  answered  that  it 
once  belonged  to  the  wing  of  a  goose  in  Bohemia.  Pres- 
ently other  pens  sprang  out  of  the  great  pen,  and  seemed 
all  busy  writing;  a  loud  noise  was  heard,  and  Frederick 
awoke.  The  dream,  mythical  or  not,  foreshadowed  the 
great  crisis  at  hand.  The  hundred  years  had  revolved, 
and  Huss's  saying  had  come  true.  "  To-day  you  burn  a 
goose  ;^  a  hundred  years  hence  a  swan  shall  arise  whom 
you  will  not  be  able  to  burn."  The  movement,  long  going 
on  beneath  the  surface,  and  breaking  out  here  and  there 
ineffectually,  had  at  length  found  a  worthy  champion  ;  and 
all  these  forming  impulses  of  the  time  gathered  to  Luther, 
welcomed  him  and  helped  him.  The  Humanists,  Reuch- 
lin,  Erasmus,  and  others,  expressed  their  sympathy ;  the 
war-party,  Hiitten  and  Seckingen,  uttered  their  joy;  above 
all,  the  great  heart  of  the  German  people  responded ;  and 
while  the  monk  of  Wittenberg  seemed,  as  he  said  after- 
wards, to  stand  solitary  in  the  breach,  he  was  in  reality 
encompassed  by  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  a  great  army  of 
truth-seekers,  at  whose  head  he  was  destined  to  win  for 
the  world  once  more  the  triumph  of  truth  and  righteous- 
ness. 

When  the  reality  of  the  excitement  produced  by  the 
theses  became  apparent,  opposition  as  well  as  sympathy 
was,  of  course,  soon  awakened.  Tetzel  continued  to  rave 
at  Frankfort-on-the-Oder ;  Hochstratten,  professor  at  Co- 

^  The  meaning  of  the  Bohemian  name  "Huss." 


LUTHER.  29 

logne  (the  great  seat  of  the  anti-humanist  reaction),  and 
head  inquisitor  of  Germany,  clamored  for  the  heretic  to  be 
committed  to  the  flames ;  Sylvester  Prierias,  the  general  of 
the  Dominicans  and  censor  of  the  press  at  Rome,  pub- 
lished a  reply,  in  dialogue,  in  which,  after  the  manner  of 
dialogues,  he  complacently  refuted  the  propositions  of  Lu 
ther,  and  consigned  him  to  the  ministers  of  the  Inquisition 
and,  last,  and  most  formidable  of  all,  Dr.  Eck,  a  theologica' 
professor  at  Ingolstadt,  entered  the  lists  against  the  re 
former.     Eck  was  an  able  man,  well  versed  in  the  scholas 
tic  theology ;  and  a  warm  friendship,  founded  apparently 
on  genuine  respect  on  either  side,  had  hitherto  existed  be- 
tween him  and  Luther.     Now,  however,  instigated  partly 
by  a  natural  feeling  of  rivalry,  partly  by  honest  opposition 
to  the  sentiments  of  Luther,  and  the  call  of  his  diocesan 
the  Bishop  of  Eichstadt,  he  attacked  the  ninety-five  theses 
in  a  style  of  violence  which  galled  Luther,  and  made  him 
strongly  feel  the  breach  of  friendship,  especially  as  Eck 
had   given  no  warning   of   the   attack.^       The   reformer, 
it  may  be  imagined,  did  not  spare  his  adversary  in  reply. 
Strong  language    was   a   diflicult  game  to  play  at  with 
Luther;   and  the  old  friends,  now  rival  disputants,  were 
destmed,  ere  long,  to  meet  face  to  face  in  a  more  memo- 
rable conflict. 

At  first  the  Pope,  Leo  X.,  took  but  little  heed  of  the  dis- 
turbance. He  is  reported,  indeed,  to  have  said,  when  the 
attack  of  Prierias  was  submitted  to  him,  that  "  Friar  Mar- 
tin was  a  man  of  genius ;  that  he  did  not  wish  to  have  him 
molested;  the  outcry  against  him  was  all  monkish  jeal- 
ousy." Busy  with  his  own  dilettante  and  ambitious 
schemes,  his  buildings  and  his  MSS.,  Leo  had  no  percep- 


1  "  Neque  monens,  neque  scribens,  neque  valedictens, '  as  he  complains. 
3# 


80     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

tion  of  the  real  state  of  things  in  Germany,  and  would  fain 
have  kept  aloof  from  interference.  Some  of  the  cardinals, 
however,  saw  more  distinctly  the  real  character  of  the 
movement ;  the  seriousness  of  the  affair  was  made  at 
length  apparent  even  to  papal  indifference,  and  a  tribunal 
was  appointed  to  try  Luther's  doctrines.  At  the  head  of 
this  tribunal  was  placed  Luther's  declared  opponent  Prie- 
rias ;  and  the  monk  received  a  summons  to  appear,  within 
sixty  days,  at  Rome,  to  answer  for  his  theses.  Compliance 
with  this  summons  would  have  been  fatal  to  him.  Once 
in  the  hands  of  the  cardinals,  the  fate  of  Huss,  or  a  secret 
and  still  more  terrible  one,  awaited  him.  His  university, 
accordingly,  interceded;  and  the  Elector  at  length  took  active 
steps,  and  claimed  that,  as  a  German,  he  should  be  heard 
in  Germany  rather  than  in  Rome.  This  was  conceded,  and 
Luther  was  appointed  to  appear  before  the  papal  legate 
Cajetan,  then  present  at  the  Diet  of  Augsburg. 

But,  while  thus  seeming  to  yield  to  a  fair  investigation  of 
the  case,  the  papal  court,  with  true  Roman  perfidy,  had 
prejudged  it,  and  despatched  secret  instructions  to  the 
legate  to  deal  with  Luther  as  a  notorious  heretic,  and  forth- 
with excommunicate  him,  unless  he  recanted  his  opinions. 
Unwitting  of  this  judgment,  Luther  hastened  to  present 
himself  before  the  legate,  under  the  protection  of  a  safe- 
conduct  procured  through  the  zealous  intervention  of  his 
friends.  Cajetan  met  him  with  the  most  bland  and  smiling 
kindness.  The  affair  seemed  to  him  only  to  requhe  a  little 
smoothness  and  address.  The  idea  of  conscientious  con- 
viction in  a  poor  monk  was  unintelligible  to  him.  He  of- 
fered two  propositions  to  Luther  —  the  one  as  to  the  spirit- 
ual virtue  of  indulgences,  and  the  other  as  to  the  necessity 
of  faith  to  the  efficacy  of  the  sacraments ;  and  he  was 
asked,  in  opposition  to  his  supposed  views,  to  admit  the 


LUTHER.  81 

affirmative  of  the  one,  and  the  negative  of  the  other.  Sub- 
mit, and  recant  your  errors,  was  all  that  the  legate  had  to 
say  to  him.  Submission  without  conviction,  however,  was 
about  the  very  last  idea  that  had  entered  Luther's  mind. 
It  is  a  grand  and  typical  contrast  between  the  moral  ear- 
nestness of  the  Teuton  and  the  diplomatic  accommoda- 
tion of  the  Italian.  "  Most  reverend  father,"  said  Luther, 
"  deign  to  point  out  to  me  in  what  I  have  erred." —  "  You 
must  revoke  both  these  errors,  and  embrace  the  true  doc- 
trine of  the  church,"  was  all  the  answer.  "  I  ask  for 
Scripture  ;  it  is  on  Scripture  my  views  are  founded." —  "  Do 
you  not  know  that  the  Pope  is  above  all  ? " —  "  Not  above 
Scripture." — "  Yes,  above  Scripture,  and  above  councils. 
Retract,  my  son,  retract ;  it  is  hard  for  you  to  kick  against 
the  pricks."  It  was  of  no  use.  They  could  not  get  near 
to  one  another,  and  never  could  have  done.  Thrice  the 
conference  was  broken  up,  and  thrice  renewed.  At  length 
irritated  self-esteem  broke  through  the  fair  courtesy  of  the 
Italian.  "  Retract,"  he  cried,  "  or  never  appear  in  my  pres- 
ence again ! "  Luther  retired  in  silence,  and  set  forth  in 
writing  the  grounds  on  which,  while  willing  to  acknowl- 
edge that  he  might  have  spoken  unadvisedly  and  irrever- 
ently of  the  Pontiff,  he  could  not  retract  liis  doctrines,  for 
tliat  would  he  against  his  cojiscience.  Cajetan  made  no  re- 
ply. He  felt  that  he  had  been  foiled ;  and  his  real  feelings 
betrayed  themselves,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  to  Staupitz: 
"  I  will  not  speak  with  the  beast  again ;  he  has  deep  eyes, 
and  his  head  is  full  of  speculation."  What  his  designs 
were,  remain  unknown.  Luther  became  convinced  of  his 
danger — hastily  drew  up  two  letters,  the  one  to  the  legate, 
the  other  to  the  Pope,  strongly  repelhng  the  imputation  of 
heresy,  and  appealing  from  "  Leo  ill-informed  to  Leo  well- 
informed  ; "  and,  having  procured  horse  and  guide,  he  fled. 


32     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

during  the  night,  from  Augsburg,  and  with  all  speed  reached 
Wittenberg.  On  his  homeward  way  he  was  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  secret  instructions  of  the  court  of  Rome, 
and,  with  characteristic  generosity,  offered  to  the  Elector  to 
retire  into  France  till  the  storm  had  blown  over.  But  this 
was  not  to  be  :  God  had  further  and  higher  work  for  him  to 
do.  The  university  resisted  his  proposal,  and  the  Elector 
refused  to  part  with  him. 

Baffled  so  far,  the  papal  court  made  a  further  attempt  at 
negotiation.  Miltitz,  himself  a  German,  and  the  envoy  of 
the  Pope  to  the  Saxon  court,  undertook  the  office  of  me- 
diator. He  understood  the  necessities  of  the  case  better 
than  Cajetan.  He  even  recognized  the  justice  of  the 
attack  on  the  indulgence  system,  by  bringing  Tetzel  to 
task,  dismissing  and  disgracing  him.  He  was  content  to 
impose  silence  on  the  offending  monk,  without  demanding 
retractation ;  and  Luther  for  a  while  consented  to  keep  the 
peace.  The  truce,  however,  was  hollow ;  it  was  not  in  the 
nature  of  things :  the  current  of  change  had  set  in  too 
strongly.  Luther  himself,  while  constantly  reluctant  to 
advance,  felt  that  he  was  driven  onward,  as  if  by  a  higher 
power.  "  God  humes,  drives,  not  to  say  leads  me,"  he 
wrote  to  Staupitz.  "  I  am  not  master  of  myself.  I  wish 
to  be  quiet,  and  am  hurried  into  the  midst  of  tumults." 
And  so  the  movement  gathered  force  under  apparent  re- 
pression. The  current  only  channelled  for  itself  a  deeper 
and  wider  course,  from  being  shut  up  and  sealed  from  out- 
let for  a  time.  The  convictions  of  the  reformer  were  as- 
suming a  bolder  scope.  "  Whatever  I  have  hitherto  done 
against  Bome,"  he  said,  "  has  been  in  jest;  soon  I  shall  be 
in  earnest.  Let  me  whisper  in  your  ear  that  I  am  not  sure 
whether  the  Pope  is  antichrist  or  his  apostle."  And  this, 
too,  while  he  still  kept  appealing  to  the  Pope,  in  language 


LUTHER.  83 

deprecatory,  and  even  servile  in  its  adulation.^  This  incon- 
sistency, if  not  defensible,  was  very  intelligible  in  Luther. 
There  was  a  violent  conflict  raging  in  him,  between  the 
new  ideas  forcing  themselves  upon  him  from  all  sides,  and 
his  old  and  natural  feeling  of  monkish  obedience.  Bold  as 
he  was,  there  were  moments  when  he  had  dark  and  pain- 
ful misgivings,  and  would  fain  have  rested  quietly  in  the 
bosom  of  the  church.  More  and  more,  however,  the  new 
ideas  gathered  force  and  shape,  and  took  firm  possession 
of  him.  It  was  no  longer  merely  the  special  abuse  of  in- 
dulgences, but  the  general  pretensions  of  the  hierarchical 
Roman  system,  that  actuated  and  impelled  him  forward. 
The  indulgence  controversy  had  done  its  work.  A  glare 
of  light  had  been  let  in  upon  the  hideous  abuses  of  the 
prevailing  ecclesiasticism.  A  rent  had  been  made  in  the 
great  sacerdotal  fabric.  Miltitz  cunningly  sought  to  patch 
up  the  rent,  and  shut  out  the  streaming  light;  but  the  time 
had  passed  for  such  compromise.  The  spirit  moved  was 
too  earnest  to  be  thus  allayed :  the  arm  which  had  rudely 
given  the  shock  was  too  brawny  and  restless  in  its  youthful 
power  to  be  thus  stroked  into  quietness.  The  work  of  de- 
struction went  on ;  and,  through  the  tumbling  timbers  of  the 
crazy  edifice,  light  came  rushing  in  at  all  points.  Luther 
himself  was  amazed  at  the  discoveries  that  crowded  upon 
him. 

The  Leipzig  disputation  with  Dr.  Eck  marks  this  great 
advance  in  his  views.  It  is  no  longer  a  question  merely  as 
to  indulgences  and  the  power  of  the  Pope  on  a  special 
point,  but  a  question  as  to  the  general  supremacy  of  the 
Pope.  So  far  as  the  doctrine  of  indulgences  was  concerned, 
Luther's  adversary  gave  in  on  almost  every  point ;  but  he 

1  Luther's  letter  to  the  Pope,  3d  March  1519;   Opera.,  vol.  i.  p,  184  — Jenoe, 
1612. 


34     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

made  a  \'igorous  stand  on  general  grounds  in  behalf  of  tlie 
absolute  supremacy  of  the  Pope,  arguing,  among  other  rea- 
sons, from  the  basis  of  the  well-known  text,  Matt.  xvi.  18, 
"  Thou  art  Peter,  and  upon  this  rock  I  will  build  my 
church."  Luther  maintained  the  customary  Protestant 
version  of  the  text,  applying  the  rock  to  Christ,  whom 
Peter  had  just  confessed  to  be  the  Son  of  the  living  God. 
He  claimed  for  Christ  the  sole  absolute  headship  of  the 
church :  although,  at  the  same  time,  he  did  not  deny  the 
primary  ecclesiastical  position  of  the  Pope,  nor  his  right  to 
that  position  as  a  mere  constitutional  arrangement.  Eck 
tried  to  frighten  him,  and  cast  discredit  on  his  doctrines,  by 
raising  the  old  cry  of  "  Bohemian"  against  them ;  but  Luther 
was  not  to  be  moved  by  such  imputations,  and  did  not  hes- 
itate to  defend  some  of  the  articles  of  Huss.  The  con- 
troversy lasted  for  days,  and  at  length  terminated  with  the 
usual  issue  in  such  controversies  —  both  sides  claimed  the 
victory.  A  drawn  battle  with  Rome,  however,  at  this  crisis, 
was  equivalent  to  a  defeat.  Luther  was  hailed  more  than 
ever  as  the  champion  of  the  national  indignation,  rising 
always  more  urgently  against  Kome.  The  question  of  in- 
dulgences was  forgotten  as  the  tide  of  national  feeling 
swelled  higher,  and  it  became  more  manifest  every  day 
that  the  real  question  was  Germany  or  Rome,  —  national 
independence  or  hierarchical  bondage ;  and  still  more 
deeply,  Scripture  or  church,  —  conscience  or  authority. 
The  popular  sympathy  showed  itself  eagerly,  in  numberless 
satires  and  caricatures  of  Eck  and  his  party.  Even  Eras- 
mus joined  the  affray,  with  his  cold,  glancing  mockery;^  and 
Hiitten,  after  his  peculiar  fashion,  aimed  a  trenchant  blow 
at  the  papal  champion  in  the  "  Planed-ofF  Corner "  {der 

*  "  Don't  call  him  Eck;  call  him  Jeck  "  (fool),  was  the  pun  of  Erasmus. 


LUTHER.  35 

Ahgehohelte  Eck)}  Copies  of  the  disputation,  in  thirty  dif- 
ferent versions,  were  rapidly  bought  up.  Luther  was  now 
fairly  engaged  in  a  life-long  struggle,  and  the  fight  went 
bravely  on. 

Now,  and  on  to  the  Diet  of  Worms,  the  life  of  Luther 
rises  to  its  grandest  pitch  of  heroism.  No  one  ever  stood 
more  fully  in  the  light  of  a  nation's  hopes,  or  answered, 
upon  the  whole,  more  nobly  to  them.  Kecognizing  his 
great  position,  he  stood  to  it  like  a  true  man  ;  and  as  the 
battle  was  now  joined,  he  spared  not  those  "  thunderbolts,"^ 
which  no  one  knew  better  how  to  use  in  a  moment  of 
need.  Eesting  for  a  month  or  two  to  gather  breath,  after 
his  contest  with  Eck,  in  the  course  of  the  following  June 
(1520)  he  published  his  famous  address  to  the  "  Christian 
Nobles  of  Germany."  It  was  only  a  few  sheets ;  but  never 
did  words  tell  more  powerfully.  "  The  time  for  silence  is 
past,"  he  said ;  "  the  time  to  speak  is  come."  He  struck  a 
clear  and  loud  note  of  national  independence,  and  sum- 
moned the  Christian  powers  of  Germany  to  his  aid.  "  Talk 
of  war  against  the  Turk  ! "  he  cried  ;  "  the  Roman  Turk  is 
the  fellest  Turk  in  the  world!  —  Roman  avarice  the  greatest 
thief  that  ever  walked  the  earth  !  —  all  goes  into  the  Roman 
sack,  which  has  no  bottom,  and  all  in  the  name  of  God, 
too  !  "  He  reiterated,  in  brief  and  emphatic  language,  the 
great  truth  which  had  begun  to  dawn  upon  him  at  Leipzig, 
—  that  all  Christians  are  priests,  and  that,  consequently,  the 
clerical  ofiice  is  a  mere  function  or  order.  He  maintained 
the  independence  of  all  national  churches,  and  the  rights 
of  national  and  social  life,  against  ecclesiastical  usurpation. 

1  "A  satire,"  says  Eanke,  "which,  for  fantastic  invention,  striking  and 
ci-nshing  truth,  and  Aristophanic  wit,  far  exceeded  the  Literce  Ohscurorum 
Viro7'V77i,  which  it  somewhat  resembled." 

2  "  Fuhnina  erant  linguee  singula  verba  tuce." —  Melakcthois-. 


36     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

He  drew  a  strong  picture  of  the  miserable  exactions  and 
oppressions  of  the  Papal  See,  and  cast  back,  with  no 
measure,  its  insolence  in  its  very  teeth.  "  Hearest  thou,  O 
Pope !  not  all-holy,  but  all-sinful,  —  who  gave  thee  power  to 
lift  thyself  above  God,  and  break  his  laws  ?  The  wicked 
Satan  lies  through  thy  throat.  O  my  Lord  Christ!  hasten 
thy  last  day,  and  destroy  the  devil's  nest  at  Rome !"  The 
impression  produced  by  such  language  may  be  more  easily 
imagined  than  described.  In  the  course  of  a  fortnight, 
four  thousand  copies  of  the  address  were  sold ;  and  before 
the  end  of  the  month,  a  new  edition  was  in  print,  and 
speedily  bought  up.  This  address  was  followed,  in  Octo- 
ber, by  a  treatise  "  On  the  Babylonish  Captivity  of  the 
Church,"  in  which  he  attacked  with  vigor  the  abuses  into 
which  its  sacramental  system  had  grown.  He  now  looked 
back,  as  it  were,  with  pity  on  his  former  indulgence  to  the 
Papacy.  In  the  course  of  two  years,  and  during  his  dis- 
putes with  Eck,  Emser,  and  others,  his  eyes  had  become 
greatly  opened.  After  hearing  and  reading  the  "artful 
subtleties  of  these  champions,"^  he  was  certain  that  the 
Papacy  was  "  the  kingdom  of  Babylon,  and  the  power  of 
Nimrod  the  mighty  hunter."  "  I  must  now  deny  that  there 
are  seve;n  sacraments,  and  bind  them  to  three — baptism, 
the  Lord's  Supper,  and  penance  ;  and  even  these  are  led 
by  the  Church  of  Home  into  a  wretched  prison,  and  the 
church  is  robbed  of  all  her  liberty."  He  defended,  as  he 
never  ceased  to  do,  the  literal  reality  of  Christ's  presence 
in  the  Supper;  but  he  warmly  combated  the  Thomist 
definitions  of  that  presence,  resting  on  a  supposed  Aris- 
totelic  distinction  of  subject  and  accident;  and  he  zeal- 
ously maintained  the  right  of  the  laity  to  the  cup  as  well 

^  "  Subtilissimas  subtilitates  istorura  Trossulorum."  —  t>/3era,  ii.  259. 


LUTHER.  37 

as  the  bread.  These  two  works,  with  his  sermon  "  On  the 
Liberty  of  a  Christian  Man,"  mark  the  very  crisis  of  the 
movement.  Appeahng,  on  the  one  hand,  to  the  excited 
national  interests  of  Germany,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  to 
its  reviving  spiritnal  hfe,  they  strnck,  with  a  happy  success, 
the  two  most  powerful  chords  then  vibrating  in  the  nation. 
"  They  contain,"  Ranke  says,  "  the  kernel  of  the  whole 
Reformation."  They  concentrate  its  spirit  while  they 
signalize  its  triumph. 

The  publication  of  the  papal  bull  just  at  this  time  con- 
summated the  crisis.  It  had  been  obtained  by  the  reckless 
importunity  of  Eck  nearly  a  year  before ;  bnt  great  diffi- 
culty had  been  felt  in  making  it  public,  owing  to  the 
enthusiasm  now  so  widely  spread  on  behalf  of  the  re- 
former. At  length  Eck  fixed  upon  Leipzig  as  the  place 
where  he  supposed  that  he  could  promulgate  it  most  safely, 
under  the  protection  of  Duke  George  ;  but  even  here,  now, 
where  so  recently  he  had  been  hailed  by  the  university  as 
the  champion  of  the  Papacy,  the  students  seized  and 
insulted  him,  and  he  was  glad  to  make  his  escape.  He 
fled  for  his  life  to  Erfurt ;  but  here,  too,  the  students  attacked 
him,  laid  hold  of  the  bull,  and  threw  it  into  the  river,  say- 
ing, "  It  is  a  bubble  —  let  it  swim."  These  demonstrations 
were  crowned  by  Luther's  own  daring  act  on  the  lOtli  of. 
December  (1520).  Assembling  the  doctors,  students,  and 
citizens,  at  the  Elster  Gate  of  Wittenberg,  on  this  mem- 
orable day,  a  fire  of  wood  was  kindled,  and  Luther,  clad  in 
his  cowl,  and  with  the  papal  bull  and  decretals  in  his  hand, 
approached  it,  and  cast  them  into  the  fire,  saying,  "  As  thou 
hast  vexed  the  saints  of  God,  so  mayest  thou  be  consumed 
in  eternal  fire."  This  irrevocable  act  severed  Luther  forever 
from  the  Papacy.  There  was  no  compromise  —  no  truce 
even  henceforth  possible.     The  battle  must  be  fought  out. 

4 


38     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

With  such  high-hearted  courage  and  clear  trust  in  God 
on  the  part  of  the  reformer,  there  was  no  doubt  on  whose 
side  the  victory  would  declare. 

The  moment  of  Luther's  proudest  triumph  was  now  at 
hand.  Charles  V.  had  recently  succeeded  to  the  empire. 
He  was  only  twenty  years  of  age,  inexperienced,  and 
unconscious  of  all  that  was  going  on  in  Germany.  "  He 
understood  neither  its  language  nor  its  thoughts."^  Nat- 
urally of  a  superstitious  temper,  his  sacerdotal  leanings 
were  already  manifest,  and  the  papal  party,  with  Aleander 
(the  papal  nuncio)  at  their  head,  failed  in  no  efforts  to 
influence  him  against  the  Pveformation.  They  urged  him 
to  take  some  decided  step  —  to  cause  the  books  of  Luther 
to  be  burned  throughout  the  empire,  and  so  to  declare  his 
determination  to  uphold  the  cause  of  the  church.  The 
inclinations  of  Charles  admit  of  no  doubt ;  but  he  was  too 
ignorant  of  the  real  meaning  and  magnitude  of  the  move- 
ment, and  hemmed  in  by  too  many  practical  difficulties,  to 
be  able  to  adopt  and  carry  out  a  clear  and  uncompromising 
policy.  Opposed  to  the  zealots  of  the  Papacy,  the  extreme 
national  party  approached  him  with  the  boldest  suggest- 
ions. He  was  pressed  to  call  the  free  national  party,  led 
by  Hiitten  and  Seckingen,  to  his  aid.  Hiitten  himself 
addressed  him,  offering  to  serve  him  day  and  night,  with- 
out fee  or  reward,  if  only  he  would  throw  off  the  trammels 
of  a  foreign  ecclesiasticism,  and  place  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  German  people.  Add  to  this  that  he  was  mainly 
indebted  for  his  imperial  dignity  to  Luther's  friend,  the 
Elector  Frederick,  and  the  complexities  of  his  position 
may  be  imagined. 

After  being  crowned  at  Aix-la-Chapelle  on  the   28th 

J  Eanke,  vol.  i.  p.  519. 


LUTHER.  39 

Jannaiy  1521,  Charles  had  proceeded  to  Worms,  where  he 
assembled  his  first  Diet  of  the  sovereigns  and  states  of 
Germany,  It  was  the  great  object  of  Aleander,  Eck,  and 
the  rest  of  the  papal  leaders,  to  have  Lnlher  condemned 
unheard,  and  with  this  view  Aleander  made  a  lengthened 
speech  at  the  Diet.  They  succeeded  so  far  as  to  induce 
the  emperor  to  issue  an  edict  for  the  destruction  of  the 
reformer's  books;  but  the  Estates  refused  to  publish  it, 
unless  Luther  had  first  an  opportunity  of  confronting  his 
accusers  under  a  safe-conduct,  and  answering,  before  the 
Diet,  to  the  charges  preferred  against  him.  Nothing  could 
be  more  congenial  to  the  present  temper  of  Luther.  It 
was  exactly  what  he  most  desired  —  to  confess  the  truth 
before  the  assembled  powers  of  Germany.  He  made  up 
his  mind  at  once  to  obey  the  summons,  and  wrote  bravely 
to    Spalatin  (the    Elector's   secretary) :    I  will  be  carried 

hither  sick,  if  I  cannot  go  sound Expect  everything 

from  me  but  flight  or  retraction." 

Nothing  can  well  be  grander  —  more  epical  in  its  con- 
trasts, more  scenic  in  its  adjuncts,  and  more  impressive  in 
its  issues  —  than  this  passage  in  the  history  of  the  Refor- 
mation, —  the  journey  of  Luther,  with  its  strange  and 
mixed  incidents  —  his  appearance  in  Worms  —  his  appear- 
ance before  the  Diet  —  his  prayer  beforehand  —  his  fears 
—  his  triumph  —  the  excitements  that  followed  his  tri- 
umph—  his  seizure  on  his  return,  and  residence  in  the 
Wartburg.  It  would  be  difiicult  to  find  anywhere  a  nobler 
subject  for  a  great  poem. 

He  set  out  on  his  mission  on  the  2d  of  April,  with  the 
sympathy  and  good  wishes  of  all  the  Wittenbergers.  He 
travelled  in  a  carriage  provided  for  the  occasion  by  the 
town  council ;  and  his  friends  of  the  university  and  others 
assembled  to  witness  his  departure.     The  imperial  herald, 


40     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

clad  in  the  insignia  of  his  office,  rode  first,  his  servant  fol- 
lowed ;  Luther  and  his  comrades  brought  up  the  rear.  His 
progress  resembled  a  triumph.  As  he  passed  towns  and 
villages,  the  people  came  forth  in  numbers  to  greet  him. 
At  the  hotels  where  he  rested,  crowds  tlironged  to  see  liim, 
and  there  were  "  drinking  of  healths,  good  cheer,  and  the 
dehghts  of  music."  ^  As  he  left  Nuremberg  a  priest  sent 
after  him  a  portrait  of  the  Italian  reformer,  Savonarola, 
with  a  letter  exhorting  him  "to  be  manful  for  the  truth, 
and  to  stand  by  God,  and  God  would  stand  by  him."  At 
Weimar  the  imperial  messengers  were  seen  posting  on 
the  walls  an  edict  summoning  all  who  were  in  possession 
of  his  books  to  deliver  them  up  to  the  magistrates.  The 
herald  turned  to  inquire  if  he  were  moved  by  such  a  sign 
of  danger :  "  I  will  go  on,"  he  said,  "  although  they  should 
kindle  a  fire  between  Wittenberg  and  Worms  to  reach  to 
heaven.  I  will  confess  Christ  in  Behemoth's  mouth, 
between  his  great  teeth."  At  Erfurt  he  preached,  and  a 
crowd  of  tender  associations  rushed  upon  his  mind  as  he 
gazed  at  the  convent,  the  scene  of  his  spiritual  birth ;  and 
as  he  stood  by  the  grave  of  one  of  his  former  companions, 
a  brother  monk,  "  How  calmly  he  sleeps  I  and  I "  —  was 
his  remark  to  Jonas,  while  he  leaned  upon  the  gravestone, 
absorbed  in  thought,  until  warned  of  the  lateness  of  the 
hour.  At  Eisenach,  amidst  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood,  he 
was  seized  with  a  dangerous  illness.  His  strength  and 
spirits  forsook  him ;  but  he  went  on  in  calm  trust  in  God. 
At  Heidelberg  he  held  a  public  discussion  ;  and,  undeterred 
by  the  remonstrances  which  were  now  poured  upon  him 
even  from  his  best  friends  —  unseduced  by  the  well-meant 
intentions  of  Seckingen  and  others  to  retain  him  in  safety 
at  his  castle  of  Ehrenberg,  he  approached  the  imperial 

1   COCHL.^US. 


LUTHER.  41 

city.  Even  SpaJatin  was  alarmed,  and  sought  to  stay  him. 
"  Cany  back,"  was  the  answer,  "  that  I  am  resolved  to 
enter  Worms  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
although  as  many  devils  should  set  at  me  as  there  are 
tiles  on  the  house-tops." 

It  has  been  supposed  by  Audin,  Luther's  modern  Romanist 
biographer,  that  it  was  on  this  occasion  —  as  the  old  towers 
of  Worms  came  in  sight,  and  the  full  greatness  of  the  crisis 
rushed  upon  him  —  that,  rising  in  his  carriage,  he  chanted 
his  famous  hymn,  "  Ein  feste  Burg  ist,  unser  Gott,"  "  the 
Marseillaise,"  Audin  significantly  adds,  "of  the  Reforma- 
tion." The  story  is  not  improbable,  and  adds  a  grandeur 
to  the  event.  It  has  been  commonly  believed,  however, 
that  the  hymn  was  not  composed  till  nearly  ten  years  later, 
at  Coburg. 

He  entered  Worms  on  the  16th  of  April,  escorted  by  his 
friends  and  numbers  of  the  Saxon  noblemen,  who  had 
gone  out  to  meet  him.  As  he  passed  through  the  city,  so 
great  was  the  crowd  that  pressed  to  see  him,  that  he  had 
to  be  conducted  through  back  courts  to  his  inn.  More  than 
two  thousand  assembled  at  the  Deutscher  Hof,  where  he 
took  up  his  abode,  and  till  late  at  night  his  room  was 
thronged  by  nobles  and  clergy  who  came  to  visit  him. 
After  his  room  was  cleared,  a  different  picture  presented 
itself  The  bold  monk  is  seen  prostrate  in  an  agony  of 
prayer.  His  voice  was  heard  in  snatches  by  his  friends  as 
it  rose  to  heaven,  and  it  is  impossible  to  read  anything  more 
touching  and  awe-inspiring  than  the  fragments  of  this 
prayer  which  have  been  preserved.^     On  the  following  day 

'  There  seems  to  be  some  doiibt  as  to  whether  it  was  on  this  evening  or  on 
the  succeeding  one,  after  his  first  appearance  before  the  Diet,  that  lie  appealed 
so  solemnly  to  Heaven,  The  following  are  parts  of  his  prayer :  —  "  My  God,  0 
thou  my  God !  stand  by  me  against  all  the  world's  reason  and  wisdom :  thou 

4* 


42     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFOUMATION. 

he  received  intimation  to  attend  before  the  Diet  the  same 
afternoon,  and  amidst  the  dark  frowns  of  Spanish  warriors 
and  ecclesiastics,  and  the  whisperings  of  affectionate  and 
courageous  sympathy,  he  was  ushered  into  the  imperial 
presence. 

The  scene  which  presented  itself  to  the  monk  was  one 
well  fitted  to  move  him.  The  Emperor,  elevated  on  his 
throne,  with  the  three  ecclesiastical  Electors  on  the  right, 
the  three  secular  on  the  left,  his  brother  Frederick  on  a 
chair  of  state  below  the  throne,  the  nobles,  knights,  and 
delegates  of  free  cities  around,  the  papal  nuncio  in  front. 
*'  The  sun,  verging  to  its  setting,  streamed  full  on  the  scene 
of  worldly  magnificence,  strangely  varied  by  every  color 
and  form  of  dress  :  the  Spanish  cloak  of  yellow  silk,  the 
velvet  and  ermine  of  the  Electors,  the  red  robes  of  cardi- 
nals, the  violet  robes  of  bishops,  the  plain  sombre  garb  of 
deputies  of  towns  and  priests."  ^  The  solitary  monk,  with 
his  head  uncovered,  pale  with  recent  illness  and  hard  study, 
with  little  or  none  as  yet  of  the  brave  rotundity^  of  his 

must  do  it  —  thou  aloue,  for  it  is  not  my  cause,  but  thine.  I  have  nothing  to 
do  for  mine  own  self;  nothing  to  do  with  these  great  lords  of  the  world.  I 
would  have  good  peaceable  days,  and  be  free  from  tumult.  But  it  is  thy 
cause,  Lord!  the  true  eternal  cause.  Stand  by  me,  thou  true  eternal  God! 
I  trust  in  no  man.  It  is  vain  and  to  no  purpose  all  that  is  flesh,  0  God!  my 
God !  Hearest  thou  not,  0  my  God !  Art  thou  dead  ?  No ;  thou  canst  not 
die.  Thou  only  hidest  thyself.  Hast  thou  chosen  me  to  this  ?  I  ask  of  thee 
that  I  may  be  assured  thereof.  I  have  not  taken  it  upon  myself,  0  God ! 
Stand  by  me  in  the  name  of  thy  dear  Son  Jesu  Christ;  for  the"  cause  is  right, 
and  it  is  thine.  I  shall  never  be  separated  from  thee.  Be  this  determined 
in  thy  name.  The  woi'ld  must  leave  my  conscience  unconstrained  ;  and 
though  it  be  full  of  devils,  and  my  body,  thy  handiwork  and  creation,  go  to 
the  ground  and  be  rent  to  fragments  and  dust,  it  is  but  the  body,  for  thy 
word  is  sure  to  me;  and  my  soul  is  thine,  and  shall  abide  with  thee  to  eter- 
nity.   Amen.     God  help  me.    Amen." 

'  Woesley:  Life  of  Luther,  vol.  i.  p.  232. 

2  "  Cares  and  studies  had  made  him  so  thin,"  says  Cochl^eus  (Luther's 


LUTHER.  43 

later  age,  a  pale  and  slight  figure  "  encircled  by  the  dark 
flashing  line  of  the  mailed  chivalry  of  Germany."  Little 
wonder  that  at  first  he  seemed  bewildered,  and  that  his 
voice  sounded  feeble  and  hesitating.  His  old  adversary 
Eck  was  the  spokesman  of  his  party,  and  loudly  challenged 
the  monk  —  first,  as  to  whether  he  acknowledged  the 
books  before  him  as  his  writings  ;  and,  secondly,  as  to 
whether  he  would  retract  and  recall  them.  To  the  first 
question  he  replied  in  the  aflirmative ;  in  answer  to  the 
second,  he  demanded  a  day's  delay  to  consider  and  frame 
an  answer.  Many  thought  he  was  at  length  frightened, 
and  would  temporize  ;  but  on  the  following  day  they  were 
abundantly  undeceived.  All  signs  of  timidity  and  hesita- 
tion had  then  vanished ;  he  had  had  time  to  meditate  an 
adequate  reply ;  and  in  a  speech  of  two  hours,  first  in  Ger- 
man and  then  in  Latin,  he  expressed  his  determination  to 
abide  by  what  he  had  written,  and  called  npon  the  Empe- 
ror and  the  States  to  take  into  consideration  the  evil  con- 
dition of  the  church,  lest  God  should  visit  the  empire  and 
German  nation  with  his  judgments.  Being  pressed  for  a 
direct  answer,  yea  or  nay,  whether  he  would  retract,  he 
answered  finally  in  the  memorable  words :  "  Unless  I  be 
convinced  by  Scripture  and  reason,  I  neither  can  nor  dare 
retract  anything ;  for  my  conscience  is  a  captive  to  God's 
word,  and  it  is  neither  safe  nor  right  to  go  against  con- 
science, llere  I  take  my  stand :  I  can  do  no  otherwise. 
So  help  me  God.     Amen." 

The  picture  is  barely  half  sketched ;  many  strokes  half 
humorous,  half  sublime,  with  a  touching  quaintness  stamp- 
ing them  upon  the  memory,  would  be  required  to  complete 

contemporary  Eomanist  biographer),  "  that  one  might  count  all  the  bones  in 
his  body." 


44     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

it.  Sympathy  with  his  position,  and  with  his  grand  and 
simple  daring,  expressed  itself  in  numerous  incidents.  The 
old  warrior  Freundsberg,  the  most  gallant  and  renowned 
soldier  of  his  day,  greeted  him  as  he  entered  the  imperial 
presence.  "  My  good  monk,  you  are  going  a  path  such  as 
I  and  our  captains,  in  our  hardest  fight,  have  never  trodden. 
But  if  you  are  sure  of  your  cause,  go  in  God's  name :  fear 
not ;  He  will  not  leave  you."  On  his  return  to  his  hotel, 
Eric,  the  aged  Duke  of  Brunswick,  sent  him  a  silver  can 
of  Einbech  beer,  in  token  of  his  admiration  and  sympathy; 
and  the  weary  monk,  parched  with  thirst,  raised  it  to  his 
lips  and  took  a  long  draught,  saying,  as  he  set  it  down,  "As 
Duke  Eric  has  remembered  me  this  day,  so  may  our  Lord 
Christ  remember  him  in  his  last  struggle."  Again  Pliilip, 
the  young  Landgrave  of  Hesse,  is  seen  riding  into  the 
courtyard  of  the  inn,  leaping  from  his  horse,  and  as  he 
rushed  into  Luther's  room,  greeting  him  with  the  words, 
"  My  dear  Doctor,  how  do  matters  go  with  you  ?" — "  My 
gracious  lord,  with  God's  help  all  will  go  well,"  was  the 
reply.  "  They  tell  me,"  the  Landgrave  added,  "  that  you 
teach  that,  if  a  woman  be  married  to  an  old  man,  it  is  law- 
ful for  her  to  quit  him  for  a  husband  that  is  younger." —  "  No, 
no  !  Your  highness  must  not  say  so." —  "  Well,  Doctor,  if 
your  cause  is  just,  may  God  aid  you."  And  seizing  the  re- 
former's hand,  he  shook  it  warmly,  and  disappeared  as 
abruptly  as  he  had  come. 

Luther  tarried  some  days  in  Worms,  and  various  at- 
tempts were  made  to  bring  him  to  a  more  submissive  frame 
of  mind,  but  all  without  success.  Questioned  at  length  as 
to  whether  any  remedy  remained  for  the  unhappy  dissen- 
sions which  had  sprung  up :  "  I  know  not  of  any,"  he  replied, 
"  except  the  advice  of  Gamaliel ;  '  If  this  counsel  or  this 
work  be  of  men,  it  will  come  to  nought ;  but  if  it  be  of 


L  u  T  n  E  n .  45 

God,  ye  cannot  overthrow  it.'  Let  the  Emperor  and  the 
States  write  to  the  Pope  that  they  are  fully  assured  that,  if 
the  doctrines  so  much  decried  are  not  of  God,  they  will  per- 
ish by  a  natural  death  within  two  or  three  years."  Strong 
in  the  confidence  of  the  truth  he  taught,  he  fearlessly 
appealed  to  the  future.  He  was  at  once  courageous  and 
humble,  —  courageous  in  the  face  of  man,  and  humble  be- 
fore God,  —  the  true  spirit  in  which  alone  the  world  can 
ever  be  reformed. 

He  received  instructions  to  depart  from  Worms  and  re- 
turn home  on  the  25th  of  April.  On  the  following  day  he 
set  out.  He  appears  himself  to  have  been  in  high  spirits, 
excited  and  braced  by  the  conflict  in  Avhich  he  had  been 
engaged.  A  letter  which  he  wi'ote  from  Frankfort  to  his 
friend  Luke  Cranach,  gives  a  lively  impression  of  his 
cheerfulness  in  the  caricature  which  it  presents  of  the 
proceedings  of  the  Diet.^  "  My  service,  dear  gossip  Luke. 
I  supposed  that  his  imperial  majesty  would  have  assembled 
some  fifteen  doctors  or  so,  and  have  overcome  the  monk  by 
argument :  but  no,  nothing  of  the  sort.  'Are  the  books 
yours ? ' —  'Yes.'  '  Will  you  revoke  or  not? ' — '  No.'  '  Get  you 
gone  then.'  O,  blind  Germans  !  what  children  we  are,  to  let 
the  Roman  apes  scoff  at  and  befool  us  in  this  way.  Give 
my  gossip,  your  dear  wife,  my  greeting ;  and  I  trust  she 
•will  keep  well  till  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  again. 
....  For  a  short  time  we  must  be  silent  and  endure.  A 
little  time,  and  ye  shall  not  see  me ;  and  again  a  httle  time, 
and  ye  shall  see  me.  I  hope  it  will  prove  so  with  us." 
These  last  expressions,  as  well  as  others  still  more  explicit 
in  the  letter,  show  that  he  was  cognizant  of  the  design  of 
his  friends  to  seize  and  conceal  him  in  some  place  of  safety 

1  Luther's  Briefe.    Be  Weiie,  vol.  i.  p.  588. 


46     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

for  a  wlrile ;  but  how  the  design  was  to  be  carried  out,  or 
where  he  Avas  to  be  placed,  seems  to  have  been  but  indis- 
tinctly communicated  to  him.  He  has  himself  narrated  the 
circumstances  of  his  seizure.  As  he  left  Eisenach,  where 
he  had  preached  and  solaced  himself  for  a  single  day  in  the 
company  of  his  relatives,  and  was  passing  a  narrow  defile 
near  the  fortress  of  Altenstein,  two  armed  horsemen,  with 
armed  attendants,  rushed  upon  him  and  his  friends.  The 
wagoner  was  thrown  to  the  ground.  His  brother,  James 
Luther,  who  was  of  the  party,  fled  and  escaped,  and  Ams- 
dorf  was  held  fast  while  Luther  was  hurried  away,  mounted 
upon  a  horse ;  and  after  various  turnings  with  the  view  of 
eluding  all  pursuit,  he  was  safely  lodged  in  the  old  castle 
of  the  Wartburg.  The  affair  was  made  to  assume  the  ap- 
pearance of  violence,  for  obvious  reasons ;  but  in  reality 
Amsdorf  was  conscious  of  the  intentions  of  Luther's 
friends,  and  he  and  the  wagoner,  of  course,  were  quietly 
permitted  to  pursue  their  way  after  the  horsemen  had 
departed  Avith  their  prisoner. 

Luther's  residence  in  the  Wartburg  forms  a  quiet  and 
green  resting-place  in  his  life,  which  falls  into  two  divisions 
exactly  on  the  one  side  and  the  other  of  it.  From  the  fair 
heights  of  the  Wartburg  and  the  pleasant  repose  of  his 
stay  there,  we  look  back  with  him  upon  a  period  of  strug- 
gle which  was  now  completed,  and  forward  upon  a  period 
scarcely  less  one  of  a  struggle,  but  of  a  very  different  char- 
acter. Hitherto  all  the  interest  of  the  movement  is  con- 
centrated in  his  single  figure.  It  is  the  monk  at  Erfnrt, 
and  then  the  preacher  at  Wittenberg,  and  then  the  reformer 
at  Worms,  that  engage  our  view.  In  all  these  different 
aspects  we  see  the  progress  of  a  great  spiritual  conflict, 
waged  almost  by  a  single  arm  against  surrounding  corrup- 
tions.    There  is  scarcely  a  companion  figure  to  distract  our 


LUTHER.  47 

attention.  The  purely  religious  impulse  communicated  by 
Staupitz  is  beheld  strengthening  into  the  earnest  activity 
of  the  opponent  of  indulgences,  and  finally  assuming  logi- 
cal consistency  and  expression  against  the  whole  hierarch- 
ical system  which  sought  to  extinguish  it.  The  flame, 
kindled  at  the  light  of  Scripture  quietly  read  in  the  convent 
library,  gradually  burns  into  zeal,  and  at  length  blazes  into 
triumphant  defiance,  in  the  face  of  Pope  and  Emperor. 
From  this  point  of  advance  Luther  now  looked  at  once 
backwards  and  forwards,  and  felt  that  he  had  done  enough. 
Never  was  man  less  of  an  iconoclast.  He  fought  for  cer- 
tain great  religious  principles  as  he  apprehended  them,  but 
he  had  little  or  no  wish  to  destroy  existing  institutions. 
Mockery,  indeed,  in  all  its  shapes,  had  become  hateful  to 
him,  and  he  resolved  to  attack  it  still  more  definitely  than 
he  had  done ;  but  the  old  Catholic  worship  and  system,  so 
far  as  it  was  national  and  not  obviously  Roman,  he  had  no 
intention  of  subverting.  To  such  feelings  we  must  trace, 
in  gregit  part,  the  marked  change  in  his  subsequent  career. 
The  principle  of  revolt  had  exhausted  itself  in  him  with 
his  great  stand  at  Worms,  and  his  naturally  consei-vative 
convictions  began  to  reassert  themselves.  We  find,  ac- 
cordingly, that  his  life  on  from  this  point  presents  a  far  more 
complex  and  inconsistent  picture  than  that  which  we  have 
been  contemplating.  While  many,  wdiom  the  spirit  of  the 
times  had  affected,  were  disposed  to  go  forward  in  the  path 
on  winch  he  had  entered,  others  had  already  before  this 
begun,  to  turn  back ;  and  he  is  seen  occupying  a  position 
of  conflict  both  with  the  one  and  with  the  other.  The 
Papacy  on  one  side  and  his  single  figure  on  the  other  no 
longer  fill  up  the  scene  ;  but  other  figures,  some  reactionary, 
and  others  of  an  impatient  and  violent  character,  crowd 


48     LEADERS  OF  THE  KEFORMATION. 

round,  and  he  is  beheld  as  merely  one  among  the  crowd, 
rather  tlyan  any  more  controlling  and  guiding  it. 

His  controversy  with  Carlstadt  and  then  with  Erasmus ; 
the  peasant  war  in  152-5,  and  his  marriage  in  the  same 
year;  the  conference  at  Marburg  with  Zwingle  in  1529; 
and  the  Diet  at  Augsburg  and  residence  at  Coburg  in  the 
following  year,  mark  the  most  important  epochs  in  this 
latter  part  of  his  life. 

In  the  Wartburg  he  tarried  for  about  a  year,  attired  and 
living,  in  all  outward  appearance,  as  a  knight.  He  let  his 
beard  grow,  wore  a  sword,  and  went  by  the  name  of 
Younker  George.  He  rambled  among  the  hills,  and  hunted, 
notwithstanding  that  the  ban  of  the  empire  was  out  against 
him.  In  the  hunting-field,  however,  he  was  still  the  theo- 
logian, and  thought  of  Satan  and  the  Pope,  with  their  im- 
pious troops  of  bishops  and  divines,  hunting  simple  souls 
as  he  saw  the  hare  pursued  by  the  dogs.  "  I  saved  one 
poor  leveret  alive,"  he  says,  "  and  tied  it  in  the  sleeve  of 
my  coat,  and  removed  to  a  little  distance ;  but  the  dogs 
scented  out  then-  victim,  sprang  up  at  it,  broke  its  leg,  and 
throttled  it.  It  is  thus  that  Satan  and  the  Pope  rage."^ 
Although  grieved  to  be  absent  from  the  scene  of  conflict, 
he  rejoiced  to  hear  that  it  still  went  on  ;  and  the  old  walls 
rang  with  his  laughter  as  some  satirical  pamphlet  of  Hiitten 
or  Luke  Cranach  reached  him  in  his  retreat.  "  I  sit  idle 
and  full  of  meat  and  drink  the  whole  day,"  he  writes  to 
Spalatin.  "  I  read  the  Bible  in  Greek  and  Hebrew.  I  am 
writing  a  sermon  in  German  on  the  liberty  of  auricular  con- 
fession ;  and  I  shall  proceed  with  my  comments  upon  the 
Psalms  and  with  the  Bible  as  soon  as  ever  I  have  received 
what   I  want  from   Wittenberg."-      He   began   now   his 

'  Briefe,  vol.  i.  p.  44,  2  ibjj^  p   g 


LUTHER.  49 

greatest  literary  achievement  —  the  translation  of  the  Scrip- 
tures into  his  native  language.  He  had  few  books  with 
him ;  but,  by  the  indefatigable  zeal  and  interest  with  which 
he  worked,  he  completed  his  version  of  the  whole  of  the 
New  Testament,  during  the  period  of  his  confinement 
(nine  months).  Add  to  this  three  treatises,  —  on  Private 
Confession,  on  the  Abuse  of  Private  Masses,  and  on 
Monastic  Vows,  —  besides  his  commentaries  and  postils, 
and  his  accusation  against  himself  of  idleness  will  appear 
sufficiently  strange. 

In  fact,  sedentary  habits  and  hard  study  began  to  tell 
upon  his  health.  He  heard  noises,  and  seemed  to  see  the 
devil  in  imaginary  shapes,  as  he  sat  at  night  in  his  room,  or 
as  he  lay  in  bed.  A  bag  of  hazelnuts  which  had  been 
brought  to  him  by  two  noble  youths,  who  waited  upon  him 
with  his  food,  was  violently  agitated  by  satanic  power  one 
night  after  he  retired  to  rest.^  They  rolled  and  struck 
against  one  another  with  such  force,  that  they  made  the 
beams  of  the  room  to  shake,  and  the  bed  on  which  he  was 
lying  to  rattle.  The  same  night,  although  the  steps  leading 
to  his  solitary  apartment  were  barred  fast  with  iron  chains, 
and  an  iron  door,  he  was  roused  from  his  sleep  by  a  tre- 
mendous rumbling  up  and  down  the  steps,  which  he 
describes  as  though  threescore  casks  were  rolling  up  and 
down.  Nothing  doubting  that  it  was  the  devil  at  work 
trying  to  molest  him,  he  got  up  and  ^walked  to  the  stair's 
head,  and  called  aloud,  "  Is  it  thou  ?  be  it  so,  then  !  I  com- 
mend me  to  the  Lord  Christ,  of  whom  it  is  written,  in  the 
eighth  Psalm,  '  Thou  hast  put  all  things  under  His  feet.' " 
On  another  and  still  more  memorable  occasion,  as  he  pored 
keenly  over  the  pages  of  his  Greek  Testament,  the  enemy 

*  Woesley's  Life,^  vol.  i.  p.  281. 
5 


50     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

assailed  bim  in  the  shape  of  a  moth,  buzzing  round  his  ears, 
and  disturbing  him  in  his  sacred  task.  His  spirit  was 
kindled  in  him  by  the  envious  pertinacity  of  the  evil  one, 
and,  seizing  his  inkstand,  he  hurled  it  at  the  intruder.  A 
hole  of  singularly  apocryphal  dimensions  in  the  wall  of  the 
chamber  which  he  inhabited,  is  pointed  out  to  the  traveller 
who  can  spare  a  long  summer's  day  to  visit  the  Wartluirg 
and  enjoy  himself  on  its  breezy  slopes,  as  the  mark  made 
by  the  reformer's  inkstand  in  this  great  encounter. 

It  is  well  for  us  to  smile  at  such  incidents ;  but  Luther 
lived  all  his  days  in  the  most  real  and  pervading  belief  of  a 
personal  and  visible  devil,  haunting  him  in  all  his  work, 
and  never  ceasing  to  disturb  and  hinder  him.  Once,  in  his 
monastery  at  Wittenberg,  after  he  had  celebrated  matins 
and  begun  his  studies,  "  the  devil,"  he  says,  "  came  into  his 
cell,  and  thrice  made  a  noise  behind  the  stove,  just  as 
though  he  were  dragging  some  wooden  measure  along  the 
floor"  (a  mouse,  probably,  as  one  has  heard  the  little  crea- 
ture in  the  quiet  night,  with  no  other  noise  in  the  room,  save 
the  creaking  of  the  ceaseless  pen).  "As  I  found  he  was 
going  to  begin  again,"  he  adds,  "  I  gathered  together  my 
books,  and  got  into  bed."  ''  Another  time,  in  the  night,  I 
heard  him  above  my  cell,  walking  in  the  cloister ;  but,  as  I 
knew  it  was  the  devil,  I  paid  no  attention  to  him,  and  went 
to  sleep."  There  is  almost  an  affectionate  familiarity  in 
some  of  his  expressions,  —  a  gentleness  of  chiding  and 
humorous  badinage,  mingling  with  the  irony  and  insult, 
which  he  thinks  are  among  the  weapons  for  encountering 
his  foe.  "  Early  this  morning,  when  I  awoke,  the  fiend 
came  and  began  disputing  with  me.  *  Thou  art  a  sinner,' 
said  he.  I  replied,  '  Canst  thou  not  tell  me  something 
new,  Satan  ? ' "  Again  :  "  When  the  devil  comes  to  me  in 
the  night,  I  say  to  him,  '  Devil,  I  must  now  sleep  ;  for  it  is 


LUTHER.  51 

the  command  and  ordinance  of  God  that  we  labor  b^^  day 
and  sleep  by  night.'  If  he  goes  on  with  the  old  story,  ac- 
cusing me  of  sin,  I  say  to  him,  to  vex  him,  'Holy  Spirit 
Satan,  pray  for  me!  '  Go,'  I  say  to  him,  '  Physician,  cure 
thyself  "  "  The  best  way,"  he  adds,  "  of  getting  rid  of  the 
devil,  if  you  cannot  do  it  with  the  words  of  holy  Scripture, 
is  to  rail  at  him,  and  mock  him  ;  he  cannot  bear  scorn."  A 
very  efficient  plan,  also,  is  "  to  turn  your  thoughts  to  some 
pleasant  subject;  to  tell  or  hear  jests  or  merry  stories  out 
of  some  facetious  book.  Music,  too,  is  very  good ;  for  the 
devil  is  a  saturnine  spirit,  and  music  is  hateful  to  him,  and 
drives  him  far  away  from  it." 

This  sort  of  belief  will  appear  superstitious  in  a  different 
degree  to  different  minds  ;  but  there  are  other  expressions 
which  the  belief  assumes  not  only  to  Luther,  but  to  the 
more  severe  and  sober  mind  of  Calvin,  so  absolutely  cred- 
ulous and  fanatical  as  to  be  matters  of  mere  blind  amaze- 
ment to  us  now.^  And  yet,  in  truth,  it  is  rather  the  form  of 
credulity  that  is  changed,  than  the  spirit  of  it  that  can  be 
said  to  be  extinguished,  after  some  things  that  we  have 
seen  in  our  own  day  bearing  upon  this  very  subject. 

As  Luther  pursued  his  literary  labors  in  the  Wartburg, 
stimulating  by  his  Avritings  the  spirit  which  his  noble  acts 
had  kindled,  unpleasant  news  reached  his  ears  as  to  the 
progress  of  the  Reformation  in  its  home  in  Wittenberg. 
Carlstadt  and  some  others,  uncontrolled  by  his  master- 
spirit, began  to  carry  out  to  its  natural  .consequences  the 
mere    spirit    of    negation    involved    in   the   Reformation. 

'  Luther's  notions,  for  example,  of  devil-children,  "  called  in  Latin  Suppo- 
sitliii,  and  by  the  Saxons  Kilkropff." — Michelet's  Life,  p.  325  (Bohn's 
Translation);  and  Calvin's  apparently  firm  belief  of  a  sick  person  being 
raised  from  his  bed  and  transported  across  the  Rhone  by  satanic  agency.  — 
Dyer's  Life,  p.  205. 


52     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

This  was,  to  some  extent,  inevitable.  It  was  impossible 
for  the  popular  mind  to  be  aroused  to  a  sense  of  the  decep- 
tions which  had  been  practised  upon  it  for  centuries,  with- 
out breaking  out  into  extreme  forms  of  hostility  against  the 
old  church  system,  in  its  forms,  as  well  as  its  doctrines. 
Iconoclasm  was  only  a  natural  development  of  the  reformed 
movement.  It  is  the  gift  of  but  few  minds  —  and  never 
the  gift  of  the  mere  popular  and  logical  mind  —  to  sepa- 
rate the  form  and  the  spirit,  and  to  recognize  that  all  refor- 
mation of  any  worth  is  in  the  latter,  and  not  in  the  former, 
which  will  by-and-by  accommodate  itself,  without  being 
violently  cast  down,  to  the  improved  and  higher  spirit. 
Carlstadt  was  merely  a  prominent  expression  of  this  pop- 
ular and  logical  spiiit.  He  was  a  species  of  German  Puritan 
before  that  moral  feeling  had  yet  arisen,  which,  in  its 
strength  and  intensit^^,  was  to  become  Puritanism.  His 
projects  were  imdoubtedly  mistaken  and  out  of  place. 
Germany  was  then  wholly  unfitted  for  Paritanism,  and 
never,  in  fact,  has  had  any  sympathy  with  it.  Its  higher 
minds,  like  Luther  himself,  were  already  beyond  it,  in  the 
breadth  and  tenderness  of  sentiment,  and  the  richness  and 
diversity  of  natural  feeling  which  animated  them.  The 
ignorant  mind,  again,  was  far  below  it,  in  the  rudeness  and 
lawlessness  of  its  moral  desires.  Carlstadt,  therefore,  as 
the  sequel  sufficiently  showed,  could  bring  nothing  but 
social  disorder  to  Germany,  and  disgrace  to  the  Heforma- 
tion ;  and  Luther  knew  this  with  his  clear,  upright,  and 
comprehensive  appreciation  of  the  national  temper.  After 
he  fairly  saw,  therefore,  that  the  danger  was  real,  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  quit  his  shelter  in  the  Wartburg,  come 
what  will,  and  resume  the  direction  of  affairs  at  his  old 
post. 

He  reentered  Wittenberg  on  the  7tli  of  March,  1522.    In 


LUTHER.  53 

the  course  of  his  journey  thither,  he  tarried  a  night  at 
Jena,  and  a  very  interesting  account  has  been  preserved 
of  his  interview  with  two  students,  on  their  way  to  Wit- 
tenberg to  see  him.  The  httle  parlor  in  the  Black  Bear, 
with  the  reformer,  in  his  knightly  disguise,  — red  mantle, 
trunk  hose,  doublet,  and  riding-whip,  —  seated  at  table,  his 
right  hand  resting  on  the  pommel  of  his  sword,  while  liis 
eye  was  directed  intently  to  a  book,  which  turned  out  to 
be  the  Hebrew  Psalter;  the  respectful  demeanor  of  the 
students  before  the  supposed  knight,  and  their  gradually 
opening  famiharity  as  he  offered  them  seats  at  the  table 
and  a  glass  of  beer ;  their  communication  to  him  of  their 
intention  to  proceed  to  Wittenberg  to  see  Martin  Luther, 
and  his  pleasant  fence  with  them  on  the  subject;  the 
entry  of  two  merchants,  and  the  free  opinion  which  they 
express  of  Luther;  the  landlord's  hints,  and  the  disclosure, 
-—  all  present  a  vivid  sketch  of  the  frank,  manly  bearing, 
genuine  heartiness,  and  humorous,  kindly  ease  of  the 
great  Augustine,  that  is  worth  a  hundred  descriptions.^ 

He  mounted  the  pulpit  on  the  first  Sunday  after  his 
return,  and  delivered  his  opinion  on  the  principles  which 
should  guide  them  in  the  great  religious  changes  through 
which  they  were  passing;  the  reality  of  sin  and  salvation, 
the  necessity  of  faith  and  love,  — these  were  the  main 
things  to  be  concerned  about,  and  not  mere  novelties  or 
changes  for  their  own  sake.  "  All  things  are  lawful,  but 
all  things  are  not  expedient.  Some  things  must  be ;  others 
might  or  might  not  be.  Faith  must  be  ;  but  in  such  things 
as  might  or  might  not  be,  regard  must  be  paid  to  the  profit 
of  others."  2  On  Monday  he  again  preached,  particularly 
on  the  subject  of  the  Mass.     "  It  was  bad  and  detestable, 

1  Woksley's  Life,  vol.  i.  pp.  341— 3i5.  2  Jbi^.^  p.  355. 

5# 


54     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

especially  as  it  had  claimed  to  be  a  sacrifice,  and  to  stand 
between  the  people  and  God.  His  Avish  was  that  all 
private  masses  thronghout  the  world  were  abolished,  and 
only  the  common  evangelical  mass  celebrated.  But  love 
must  reign  in  the  matter.  No  one  must  draw  or  tear 
another  away  by  the  hair,  but  leave  God  to  do  his  own 
work,  for  the  plain  reason  that  no  man  has  in  his  hand  the 
hearts  of  others,  and  no  man  can  make  his  words  pass 
deeper  than  the  ear.  The  word  of  God  must  be  freely 
preached,  and  this  word  must  be  left  to  work  in  the  heart. 
Then,  and  not  till  then,  should  the  work  of  abolition 
begin."  ^  In  a  similar  spirit  he  handled  the  monastic  life, 
and  the  subject  of  images,  the  sacrament  in  both  kinds, 
and  confession.  Earnestness  of  principle,  moderation  in 
practice,  was  the  key-note  of  all  this  remarkable  series 
of  sermons,  listened  to  by  crowded  audiences,  day  after 
day.  Carlstadt  and  his  associates  were  awed  for  the 
time  ;  such  images  as  had  not  been  destroyed  were  re- 
placed ;  the  Latin  service  continued  to  be  used,  with  the 
omission  of  the  words  which  designated  it  a  sacrifice ; 
and  peace  was  restored.  Luther  himself  earnestly  desired 
further  changes,  and  especially  that  the  communion  ser- 
vice should  be  in  the  German  tongue ;  but  he  would  not 
yield,  as  yet,  to  Carlstadt's  principle  of  this  being  essen- 
tial. "  This  is  carrying  the  thing  too  far,"  he  said ;  "  always 
new  laws  —  always  laying  down  this  as  a  necessity,  and 
that  as  a  sin."^  Thus  the  strictly  puritanical  spirit  was 
wholly  alien  to  him:  he  would  have  nothing  of  it. 

We  cannot  trace  the  changing  relations  which  hence- 
forth ensued  between  Luther  and  Carlstadt,  now  in  fierce 
opposition,  and  the  latter  again  returning  to  Wittenberg,  to 

1  Woksley's  Life,  vol.  i.  p.  356.  '-*  Michelet's  Life,  p.  137. 


LUTHER.  55 

shelter  himself  behmcl  the  good-nature  and  the  really- 
tolerant  temper  of  the  reformer.  The  seeds  of  fanaticism, 
which  he  and  the  Zwickau  preachers  had  sown,  soon 
began  to  ripen,  and  to  assume  a  serious  expression.  Tlie 
people,  ignorant,  oppressed,  and  unhappy,  caught  the  free 
doctrines  of  the  new  preachers,  translated  them  into  the 
most  ciTide  and  practical  application  to  their  own  circum- 
stances, and  then  proceeded,  by  force  of  arms,  to  carry 
them  out  and  assert  their  rights.  The  armed  peasantry, 
with  Munzer  at  their  head,  hold  a  definite  relation  to  the 
Zwickau  fanaticism  and  Carlstadt ;  and  yet  there  were 
distinct  features,  of  a  purely  political  kind,  in  the  peasant 
insurrection,  which  it  would  take  a  long  time  to  unravel. 
Nothing  strikes  one  more  remarkably,  in  reading  over  the 
articles  of  complaint  with  which  they  began  their  move- 
ment, than  the  singularly  moderate  and  sober  spirit  which 
characterizes  tlien].^  They  move  our  sympathy  now,  and 
they  moved  Luther's  sympathy  at  the  time,  notwithstand- 
ing all  his  strong  feehngs  of  the  duty  of  submission,  and 
of  the  horrors  of  insurrection.  He  is  nowhere  greater,  / 
indeed,  than  at  the  great  crises  in  the  history  of  the  Kef-/ 
ormation,  in  the  manner  in  which  he  threw  himselCf 
between  the  opposing  parties,  and,  on  the  one  hand,  set 
before  the  nobles  and  princes  of  Germany  the  unchristian 
cruelty  of  many  of  their  actions  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
warned  the  peasantry  of  the  disgrace  and  disaster  that 
would  attend  the  armed  assertion  of  their  rights.  No  part 
of  Luther's  conduct  was  less  understood  or  appreciated  at 
the  time.  Li  England,  by  such  men  as  Sir  Thomas  More, 
he  was  identified  with  the  disorders  against  which  he  was 
struggling  so  nobly,  and  which,  save  for  him,  might  have 

1  Michelet's  Life,  p.  161 — 165. 


56  LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

been  tenfold  more  perilous  to  the  national  interests  of 
Germany.  Words  of  higher  wisdom  than  those  by  which 
he  sought  to  restrain  the  approaching  violence,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  conceive  ;^  and  if,  when  he  found  them  ineffectual, 
and  the  day  of  sanguinary  disaster  which  he  had  pre- 
dicted had  come  and  gone,  there  is  a  harshness  almost 
unchristian  in  the  tone  with  which  he  speaks  of  the  mis- 
guided wretches,  we  must  remember  that  he  felt  most 
acutely  the  disgrace  which  their  movement  had  brought 
upon  the  Reformation.  He  could  not  see  the  fair  work 
of  God  so  marred,  —  the  religious  revival,  for  which  he 
wrought,  thrust  back  and  discredited  before  the  world,  — 
without  being  deeply  moved  and  embittered. 

While  Luther  was  thus  standing  in  the  breach,  in  favor 
of  social  order,  against  the  peasants,  and  feeling,  in  the 
odium  he  thereby  incurred,  that  he  was  no  longer  the 
popular  chieftain  he  had  been  a  few  years  before,  he  was 
made,  at  the  same  time,  somewhat  painfully  to  feel  that  he 
was  no  longer  in  unison  with  the  mere  literary  or  human- 
istic party  in  the  Reformation.  Erasmus,  the  recognized 
head  of  this  party,  had  long  been  showing  signs  of  impa- 
tience at  what  he  considered  to  be  Luther's  rudeness  and 
violence.  He  could  not  sympathize  in  the  intense  earnest- 
ness of  the  Wittenberg  reformer;  the  religious  zeal,  the 
depth  of  persuasion,  and  especially  the  polemical  shape 
which  the  latter's  convictions  had  assumed  in  his  doctrine 
of  grace,  were  all  unintelligible,  or  positively  displeasing 
to  him.  No  two  men  could  be  more  opposed  at  once  in 
intellectual  aspiration  and  in  moral  temper ;  —  Luther,  aim- 
ing at  dogmatic  certainty  in  all  matters  of  faith,  and  filled 
with  an  overmastering  feeling  as  to  the  importance  of  this 

'  Michelet's  Life,  p.  165—180. 


LUTHER.  57 

certainty  to  the  whole  rehgious  hfe ;  with  the  most  vivid 
sense  of  the  invisible  world  touching  him  at  every  point, 
and  exciting  him,  now  with  superstitious  fear,  and  now 
with  the  most  hilarious  confidence  ;  —  Erasmus,  latitudina- 
rian  and  philosophical  in  rehgious  opinion ;  with  a  strong 
perception  of  both  sides  of  any  question  ;  indifferent,  or  at 
least  hopeless,  as  to  exact  truth,  and  with  a  consequently 
keen   dislike  of  all  dogmatic  exaggerations,   orthodox  or 
otherwise;  well  informed  in   theology,  but   without  any 
very  living  and  powerful  faith ;  cool,  cautious,  subtle,  and 
refined;   more  anxious  to    expose  a   sophism,  or  point  a 
barb  at  some  folly,  than  to  fight  manfully  against  error  and 
sin.     It  was  impossible  that  any  hearty  harmony  could 
long  subsist  between  two  men  of  such  a  different  spirit, 
and  having  such  difi^erent  aims.    To  do  Erasmus  justice,  it 
must  be  remembered  that  his  opposition  to  the  Papacy  had 
never  been  dogmatic,  but  merely  critical.     He  desired  lit- 
erary freedom,  and  a  certain  measure  of  rehgious  freedom. 
He  hated  monkery ;  but  he  had  no  new  opinions  or  "  truths" 
for  which  to  contend  earnestly,  as  for  life  or  death.     He 
was  content  to  acce[)t  the  Catholic  tradition,  if  it  would  not 
disturb  him;    and  the    Cathohc  system,  with  its  historic 
memories  and  proud  associations,  was  dear  to  his  culti- 
vated   imagination   and  taste.      It  is  needless  to  blame 
Erasmus  for  his  moderation ;  we  might  as  well  blame  him 
for  not  being  Luther.    He  did  his  own  work,  just  as  Luther 
did  his  ;  and  although  we  can  never  compare  his  character, 
in  depth,  and  power,  and  reality  of  moral  greatness,  Avith 
that  of  the  reformer's,  neither  do  we  see  in  it  the  same 
exaggerations  and  intolerance  that  offend  many  in  Luther. 
Already,  in  1524,  Luther  felt  that  there  was  a  breach 
impending  between  him  and  the  literary  patriarch  of  the 
time.     He  was  so  far  from  courting  it,  however,  that  he 


58     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

used  careful  means  to  avoid  it.  Nothing  but  a  direct 
attack  of  Erasmus  -would  draw  him  into  conflict.  He  was 
disposed  to  overlook  the  sundry  sharp  side-blows  and  cuts 
which  had  already  come  from  the  keen  armory  of  Basle, 
and  to  let  alone  for  let  alone,  if  the  offence  were  not 
repeated  and  aggravated.  He  acknowledged  the  services 
of  Erasmus  in  having  contributed  to  the  flourishing  rise  of 
letters  and  the  right  understanding  of  Scripture,  and  he 
did  not  expect  any  further  assistance  from  him  in  the 
work  of  reform ;  for  the  Lord  had  meted  out  to  him,  in 
this  respect,  but  Umited  gifts  (so  Luther  said),  and  had  not 
seen  fit  to  bestow  upon  him  the  energy  and  direction  of 
mind  requisite  to  attack  the  monsters  of  the  Papacy 
soundly  and  boldly.  But  if  this  was  not  the  case,  let  him 
be  entreated  to  remain  at  least  a  silent  spectator  of  the 
tragedy.  "  Do  not  join  your  forces  to  our  adversaries ; 
publish  no  books  against  me,  and  I  will  pubUsli  none 
against  you,"^  Such  was  the  strain  in  which  Luther 
addressed  Erasmus,  in  a  remarkable  letter  of  this  year. 
We  cannot  tell  how  he  received  the  remonstrance.  It 
does  not  seem  particularly  calculated,  as  a  whole,  to 
smooth  his  vanity  or  stay  his  hand.  At  the  very  moment 
he  was  busy  with  his  treatise  De  Libera  Arhitrio,  and  the 
complacent  admonitions  of  the  reformer  were  not  likely  to 
deaden  any  of  the  glancing  thrusts  that  he  was  aiming  at 
the  Lutheran  doctrine  of  grace.  The  treatise  saw  the 
liglit  in  the  following  year,  and  Luther,  although  still  dis- 
inclined, saw  no  alternative  but  to  come  forward  in  defence 
of  views  which  he  considered  to  be  identical  with  the 
truth  of  Scripture.  In  the  course  of  the  same  year  (1525) 
he  published  his  counter-treatise,  De   Servo  Arhitrio,  on 

1  Briefe,  De  Wetle,  vol.  ii.  p.  500. 


LUTHER.  59 

which  he  bestowed  great  pains,  and  which,  along  with 
his  catechism,  he  afterwards  regarded  as  among  his  greatest 
works. 

It  would  be  idle  for  ns  to  enter  into  the  merits  of  this 
controversy,  and  in  truth  its  merits  are  no  longer  to  us 
what  they  were  to  the  combatants  themselves.  The  course 
of  opinion  has  altered  this  as  well  as  many  other  points 
of  dispute,  so  that  under  the  same  names  we  no  longer 
really  discuss  the  same  things.  There  are  probably  none, 
with  any  competent  knowledge  of  the  subject,  who  would 
care  any  longer  to  defend  the  exact  position  either  of 
Luther  or  of  Erasmus.  Both  are  right,  and  both  are 
wrong.  Man  is  free,  and  yet  grace  is  needful ;  and  the 
philosophic  refinements  of  Erasmus,  and  the  wild  exag- 
gerations of  Luther,  have  become  mere  historic  dust, 
which  would  only  raise  a  cloud  by  being  disturbed,  Ex-f 
tinct  polemics  on  such  subjects  are  the  deadest  of  alii 
buried  things  of  the  pant ;  and  while  we  look  for  a  living  j 
face  in  them,  we  find  a  mere  empty  skull  —  a  hollow, 
logical  bone-work,  from  which  the  spirit  has  fled  long 
years  ago.  There  is  reason  to  think  that  the  controversy 
was  far  from  being  satisfying  to  Luther.  He  gave  his 
adversary,  indeed,  as  good  as  he  got;  admitted  his  elo- 
quence, but  ridiculed  his  arguments,  —  comparing  them  to 
"  pease-cods,  or  waste  matter  served  up  in  vessels  of  gold 
and  silver."  His  heavy  strokes  would  be  felt  beneath  all 
the  light  indifference  of  the  scholar ;  and  he  was  strong  in 
the  conscious  possession  of  a  deep  moral  conviction,  that 
lay  nearer  to  the  truth  than  any  self-assertion  of  mere 
Pelagian  subtlety.  But,  then,  the  torturing  dilemmas  of  his 
dogmatic  position,  set  in  the  clear  light  of  common  sense, 
and  expounded  by  his  adversary  with  a  far  more  philo- 
sophic comprehension  than  he  himself  possessed,  drove 


60     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION, 


tions  which  could  scarcely  have  been  satisfactory  to  his 
own  mind  at  the  time,  and  which,  on  cool  reflection  after- 
wards, must  have  appeared  less  and  less  so.  He  is  said 
to  have,  consequently,  never  recalled  with  pleasure  the 
results  of  the  controversy,  and  never  to  have  forgiven 
Erasmus  for  having  forced  him  into  it.  He  spoke  of  him 
afterwards  as  "  that  amphibolous  being,  sitting  calmly  and 
unmoved  on  the  throne  of  amphibology,  while  he  cheats 
and  deludes  us  by  his  double  meaning,  covert  phraseology, 
and  claps  his  hands  when  he  sees  us  involved  in  his  insid- 
ious figures  of  speech,  as  a  spider  rejoices  over  a  captured 
fly."  This  bitter  feeling  seems  to  have  sprung  up  towards 
Erasmus  from  the  determination  with  which  he  pursued 
the  subject,  and  drew  out,  in  his  cool  and  sinuous  way,  the 
moral  perplexities  involved  in  Luther's  bold  statements. 
He  replied  in  two  treatises,  under  the  name  of  Hyperas- 
pistes,  and  sought  to  overwhelm  l^ie  reformer  by  ingenious 
criticism,  and  exposures  of  his  prolixity  and  misrepre- 
sentations.    "  That  venomous  serpent,  Erasmus,"  Luther 

'  As,  for  example,  when  speaking  of  free  gi*ace,  he  says,  "  It  is  not  even 
accorded  to  the  ardent  zeal  of  those  seeking  and  following  after  righteous- 
ness."—  De  Servo  Arhiirio,  Opera,  vol.  iii.  p.  225.  The  whole  of  this  para- 
graph, and  maity  other  expressions  of  Lnther,  amply  bgar  out  the  statement 
of  the  text.  He  speaks,  for  example,  of  God  by  his  own  will  making  us 
necessario  damnabiles  (p.  171);  and  again,  he  compares  the  human  will  to  a 
"pack-horse  now  mounted  by  God,  and  now  mounted  by  the  devil,"  driven 
hither  or  thither  by  divine  or  by  satanic  agency,  irrespective  of  all  moral  bias 
or  character  in  itself  (p.  172).  This  subject  has  been  fully  discussed  in  a 
recent  polemic  between  two  distinguished  men,  both,  alas !  now  gone  —  Sir 
WiUiam  Hamilton  and  Archdeacon  Hare.  Of  the  two,  the  Archdeacon  shows 
by  far  the  most  true  and  profound  appreciation  of  Luther  as  a  whole;  but  in 
particular  instances  (as,  for  example,  his  paraphrase  of  one  of  the  above  pas 
sages)  he  has  failed  to  defend  him  successfully  against  the  accusations  of 
Sir  W.  Hamilton. 


LUTHER.  61 

saj^s,  in  a  letter  to  Spalatin,  "  has  been  once  more  writing 
against  me."  And  again  :  "  The  treacherous  Erasmus  has 
brought  forth  two  books  against  me,  as  full  of  cunning 
poison  as  a  serpent."  But  perhaps  the  most  remarkable 
evidence  of  the  dislike  which  he  henceforth  cherished  for 
his  adversary  is  contained  in  a  letter  addressed  to  his  son 
John :  "  Erasmus  is  an  enemy  to  all  religion,  and  a  decided 
adversary  to  Christ  —  a  counterpart  to  Epicurus  and  Lu- 
cian.  This  I,  Martin  Luther,  have  written  to  you,  my 
dear  son  John,  and  through  you  to  all  my  children  and  the 
holy  Christian  Church."^ 

It  was  in  the  same  year,  and  amidst  these  contentions, 
that  Lutlier  took  tliat  step  in  his  life  which,  more  than  any 
other,  except  the  affair  of  the  Landgrave  of  Hesse,  has 
exposed  him  to  animadversion.  On  Trinity  Sunday,  the 
11th  of  June  (1525),  he  was  married  to  Catherine  Von 
Bora,  one  of  nine  nuns  who  had  escaped  two  years  pre- 
viously from  the  convent  of  Nimptsch,  and  taken  refuge 
in  Wittenberg.  His  intention  took  his  friends  by  surprise, 
and  even  alarmed  Melancthon  to  the  point  of  urgent 
remonstrance.  But  Luther  had  made  up  his  mind,  after 
various  delays  ;  and,  although  he  was  concerned  at  the 
disapprobation  of  his  old  friend,  he  was  not  to  be  moved 
from  his  purpose ;  and  Melancthon,  when  he  saw  this,  had 
the  good  sense  to  change  his  tone,  and  to  write  to  Came- 
rarius  in  apology  of  the  step.  Luther  does  not  lead  us  to 
suppose  that,  he  was  moved  to  marriage  at  this  time  by 
any  strong  affection  for  the  object  of  his  choice.  "  I  am 
not  on  fire  with  love,"  he  said,  '•'  but  I  esteem  my  wife." 
In  point  of  fact,  he  had  originally  destined  Catherine  for 
some  one   else,   and   it  was   only  after   this   project   fell 

1  Briefe,  Be  Wetie,  vol.  iv,  p.  497.     Tlie  letter  is  without  date. 
6 


62     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

through  that  he  thought  of  marrying  her  himself.^  It  is 
difficult,  perhaps,  to  explain  all  the  reasons  which  iiiflu- 
enced  him.  He  more  than  once,  in  his  letters,  pleads  the 
advice  and  desire  of  his  father.  He  pleads  also  a  sense 
of  duty  and  obedience  to  the  Divine  command.  "  I  am 
anxious,"  he  writes  to  Amsdorf,  "  to  be  myself  an  example 
of  what  I  have  taught.  It  is  the  will  of  God  I  follow  in 
this  matter."^  Melancthon,  in  his  letter  to  Camerarius,  to 
which  we  have  alluded,  says,  somewhat  vaguely,  "  It  may 
seem  strange  that  Luther  should  marry  at  such  an  unpro- 
j)itious  time,  when  Germany  has  especial  need  of  his 
great  and  noble  mind.  But  I  think  the  case  was  as  fol- 
lows :  You  are  aware  that  Luther  is  far  from  being  one  of 
those  who  hate  men  and  fly  their  society ;  you  know  his 
daily  habits,  and  so  you  may  conjecture  the  rest.  It  is  not 
to  be  \vondered  at  that  his  generous  and  great  soul  was  in 
some  way  softened." 

It  was  a  sufficiently  startling  step,  no  doubt,  for  a  monk 
to  marry  a  nun  in  the  face  of  the  world,  —  and  this,  too, 
when  the  cause  of  the  Reformation  was  undergoing  its 
first  violent  shock  in  connection  with  tlie  outbreak  of  the 
Zwickau  fanatics  and  the  peasants'  insurrection.  But 
when  we  look  at  it  apart  from  these  incidents,  which  do 
not  essentially  touch  the  character  of  the  act,  however 
they  may  affect  our  judgment  of  its  prudence,  it  seems  as 
if   a  very  unnecessary  noise  had  been  made  about  the 

'  The  story  represents  Kate  herself  as  rather  a  mover  in' the  atiair.  She 
is  said  to  liave  sought  an  interview  with  Amsdorf,  and  stated  that  "she  knew 
Luther  was  intent  on  uniting  her  to  Dr.  Glatz  of  Orlamunde,  but  that  she 
would  never  consent  to  marry  him ;  she  did  not  like  him.  She  was  quite 
ready  to  marry  Amsdorf,  or  Luther  himself,  but  she  would  have  nothing  to 
say  to  Dr.  Glatz." — Worsley's  Life,  vol.  ii.  p.  76.  Mr.  Worsley  gives  no 
authority  for  this  storj^,  and  I  have  not  met  with  it  anywhere  else. 

2  Briefe,  vol.  iii.  p.  13. 


LUTHER.  63 

marriage  of   the  reformer.      Even  if   it  had  been  more 
obviously  imprudent  than  it  can  be  fairly  said  to  be,  I  do 
not  see  how  it  should  have  invoked  such  harsh  and  invidi- 
ous judgments  as  even  Protestant  writers,  like   Sir  James 
Stephens,  have  passed  upon  it.     If,  in  anything,  a  man  is 
entitled  to  please  himself,  it  is  surely  in  taking  a  wife  at 
such  a  mature  age  as  that  which  Luther  had  now  reached ; 
and,  while  certain  sacred  conventionalisms  were  no  doubt 
outraged  by  the  step,  no  true  and  natural  feelings  were 
compromised.     In  so  far  as  the  act  is  to  be  judged  by  its 
consequences,  it  is  well  known  that  it  proved  of  the  hap- 
piest character.    It  is  impossible  to  conceive  a  more  simple 
and  beautiful  picture  of  domestic  life  than  in  the  letters 
and  table-talk  of  Luther  henceforth.     There  is  a  richer 
charm  and  tenderness  and  pathos  in  his  whole  existence, 
—  rather  enhanced  than  otherwise  by  the  slight  glimpses 
we  get  of  the  fact  that  Catherine  had  a  spirit  and  will  of 
her  own,  and  that,  while  she  greatly  loved  and  reverenced 
the  doctor,  she  nevertheless  took  her  own  way  in  such 
things  as  seemed  good  to  her.     Some  of  the  names  under 
which  he  delights  to  address  her  seem  to  point  to  this  little 
element  of  imperiousness,   though  in  such  a  frank  and 
merry  way  as  to  show  that  it  was  a  well-understood  sub- 
ject of  banter  between  them,  and  nothing  more.     "  My 
Lord  Kate,"  "  My  Emperor  Kate,"  are  some  of  his  titles ; 
and  again,  in  a  more  circumlocutory  humor,  "  for  the  hands 
of  the  rich  dame  of  Zuhlsdorf,  Doctoress  Catherine   Lu- 
ther;"  sometimes  simply  and  familiarly,  "Kate  my  rib." 
Nowhere  does  his  genial  nature  overflow  more  than  in 
these  letters,  running  riot  in  all  sorts  of  freakish  extrava- 
gance, yet   everywhere    touched   with   the   deep   mellow 
light  of  a  healthy  and  happy  affection.     What  a  pleasant 
ghmpse  and  sly  humor  in  the  following :  "  In  the  first  year 


64     LEADERS  OF  THE  EEFOKMATION. 

of  our  marriage,  my  Catherine  was  wont  to  seat  herself 
beside  me  whilst  I  was  studying;  and  once,  not  having 
what  else  to  say,  she  asked  me,  '  Sir  Doctor !  in  Russia,  is 
not  the  mditre  cC hotel  the  brother  of  the  Margrave?'" 
And  again,  in  the  last  year  of  his  life,  and  when  he  is  on 
that  journey  of  friendliness  and  benevolence  from  which 
he  is  never  to  return  to  his  dear  household,  the  old  spirit 
of  v/ild  fun  and  tender  affection  survives.  He  writes  to 
his  "  heart-loved  housewife,  Catherine  Lutherinn,  Doc- 
toress  Zulsdorferess,  Sow  Marketress,  and  whatever  more 
she  may  be,  grace  and  peace  in  Christ,  and  my  old  poor 
love  in  the  first  place." 

Catherine  is  said  by  Erasmus  to  have  been  very  beauti- 
ful.^ Her  portraits,  taken  by  Luke  Cranach,  represent  her 
with  a  round,  full  face,  straight  nose,  and  full,  tender  eyes. 
Luther  himself  was  greatly  taken  by  the  likeness,  and 
threatened  to  send  it  to  the  Council  of  Mantua,  to  see  if  it 
would  not  influence  the  holy  fathers  there  assembled  to 
determine  in  favor  of  the  marriage  rather  than  the  celibacy 
of  the  clergy. 

Of  this  marriage  there  were  born  six  children  to  Luther, 
and  his  relations  to  his  children  open  up  still  deeper  veins 
of  love  and  kindness  than  any  we  have  contemplated. 
Especially  his  eldest  son  Johnny  and  his  da.ughtcr  Mag- 
dalen seem  to  have  been  dear  to  his  heart ;  and  there  is 
nothing  more  pathetic  in  any  hfe  than  his  wild  yet  resigned 

1  ''  Puellara  mire  venustam."  If  the  engraving  in  Audin's  Life  of  the 
Reformer,  vol.  iii.,  is  to  be  considered  faithful,  Catherine  can  scarcely  be 
said  to  have  deserved  the  appellation  of  Erasmus.  Her  beauty  must,  at 
least,  have  been  of  a  very  broad,  blond,  Teutonic  cast  —  the  beauty  of  round, 
full,  and  child-hke  features,  rather  than  of  gi'aceful  and  winning  intelligence. 
Likely  enough,  however,  there  is  some  cai'icature  in  the  engi-aving,  —  so 
perverse  is  the  dramatic  caricature  of  Mr.  Audin's  touch  everywhere 
throughout  his  interesting  but  singularly  untruthful  history. 


LUTHER.  Q5 

grief  by  the  deathbed  of  the  latter,  who  was  taken  from 
him  in  her  fourteenth  year.  "  I  love  her  very  dearly,"  he 
cried ;  "  but,  dear  Lord,  since  it  is  thy  will  to  take  her  from 
me,  I  shall  gladly  know  her  to  be  with  thee."  And  as  he 
saw  her  lying  in  her  coffin,  he  said,  "  Thou  darling  Lena, 
how  happy  art  thou  now !  Thou  wilt  arise  again  and  shine 
as  a  star.  I  am  joyful  in  the  spirit,  yet  after  the  flesh  I  am 
very  sad.  How  strange  it  is  to  know  so  surely  that  she  is 
at  peace  and  happy,  and  yet  to  be  so  sad."  — "  We  have 
ever  before  us,"  again  he  says,  "  her  features,  her  words, 
her  gestures,  her  every  action  in  life,  and  on  her  deathbed, 
my  darling,  my  all-beautiful,  all-obedient  daughter.  Even 
the  death  of  Christ  cannot  tear  her  from  my  thoughts,  as 
it  ought  to  do." 

The  birth  of  his  eldest  son  was  an  event  of  immense 
interest  to  the  reformer.  "  I  have  received,"  he  writes  to 
Spalatin,  "from  my  most  excellent  and  dearest  wife,  a 
little  Luther,  by  God's  wonderful  mercy.  Pray  for  me, 
that  Christ  will  preserve  my  child  from  Satan,  who,  I 
know,  will  try  all  that  he  can  to  harm  me  in  him."  ^  And 
then  again,  in  answer  to  Spalatin's  good  wishes,  and  in 
reference  to  his  own  hopes  of  the  same  character :  "  John, 
my  fawn,  together  with  my  doe,  return  their  warm  thanks 
for  your  kind  benediction ;  and  may  your  doe  present  you 
with  just  such  another  fawn,  on  whom  I  may  ask  God's 
blessing  in  turn.  Amen."^  As  the  little  fellow  grows,  and 
is  about  a  year  old,  he  writes  to  Agricola :  "  My  Johnny  is 
lively  and  strong,  and  a  voracious,  bibacious  little  fellow."'^ 

It  was  to  this  son  that  he  w^rote,  when  stationed  at 
Coburg,  during  the  Diet  of  Augsburg,  that  most  beautiful 
and  touching  of  all  child-letters  that  ever  was  written. 

•  Briefe,  vol.  iii.  p.  116.  2  jbid.,  p.  119.  3  Ibid.,  p.  173. 

6* 


Q6  LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

"  Mercy  and  peace  in  Christ,  my  dear  little  son.  I  am 
glad  to  hear  that  you  learn  your  lessons  well  and  pray 
diligently.  Go  on  doing  so,  my  child.  When  I  come 
home  I  will  bring  you  a  pretty  fairing.  I  know  a  very 
prettjr,  pleasant  garden,  and  in  it  there  are  a  great  many 
children,  all  dressed  in  little  golden  coats,  picking  up  nice 
apples,  and  pears,  and  cherries,  and  plums,  under  the  trees. 
And  they  sing,  and  jump  about,  and  are  very  merry ;  and 
besides,  they  have  got  beautiful  little  horses,  with  golden 
bridles  and  silver  saddles.  Then  I  asked  the  man  to  whom 
the  garden  belonged,  whose  children  they  were,  and  he 
said,  '  These  are  children  who  love  to  pray  and  learn  their 
lessons,  and  do  as  they  are  bid  ; '  then  I  said,  '  Dear  sir,  I 
have  a  little  son  called  Johnny  Luther;  may  he  come  into 
this  garden  too  ? '  And  the  man  said,  '  If  he  loves  to  pray, 
and  learn  his  lessons,  and  is  good,  he  may ;  and  Philip  and 
Joe,  too.'  "  And  so  on,  in  the  same  tender  and  beautiful 
strain,  mixing  the  highest  counsel  and  richest  poetry  with 
the  most  child-like  interest.  Only  a  very  sound  and 
healthy  spirit  could  have  preserved  thus  fresh  and  simple 
the  flow  of  natural  feeling,  amid  the  hardening  contests 
of  the  world,  and  the  arid  subtleties  of  theological  contro- 
versy. 

In  the  year  1527,  two  years  after  his  maniage,  Luther 
fell  into  a  dangerous  sickness  and  general  depression  of 
spirits,  from  the  latter  of  which  he  was  only  fully  aroused 
by  the  dangers  besetting  the  German  nation,  and  the  very 
integrity  of  Christendom  itself,  by  the  threatened  advance 
of  the  Turks.  This  was  in  the  year  1529,  —  the  same  year 
in  which,  on  the  invitation  of  the  Landgrave  of  Hesse,  he 
engaged  in  his  famous  conference  with  Zwingle,  Bucer, 
and  CEcolampadius,  at  Marburg.  The  Landgrave,  who, 
whatever  may  have  been  his  personal  failings,  was  always 


LUTHER.  67 

one  of  the  most  warm  and  zealous,  and  withal  energetic 
and  inteUigent  supporters  of  the  Reformation,  was  hope- 
fully eager  of  establishing  a  union  between  the  Swiss  and 
German  reformers.  Zwingie  and  his  party  shared  in  his 
eagerness,  and  were  willing  to  concede  much  to  Luther,  if 
only  he  would  heartily  extend  to  them  the  right  hand  of 
fellowship.  In  the  matter  of  the  sacrament  of  the  Supper, 
however,  Luther  was  not  to  be  moved.  His  mind  here 
remained  shut  against  all  argument;  and  although  he  is 
supposed  to  have  admitted,  under  the  name  of  Consub- 
stantiation,  a  modification  of  the  Catholic  tradition,  he 
adhered  substantially  to  that  tradition,  in  all  its  signifi- 
cance, to  the  last:  he  held  to  the  literal  reality  of  the 
Divine  presence  in  the  Eucharist,  and  would  recognize 
nothing  but  rationalism,  or,  as  he  called  it,  mathematics,  in 
the  reasonings  of  Zwingie  and  his  companions.  When 
hard  pressed  by  the  latter,  he  exclaimed,  "  I  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  your  mathematics  I  —  God  is  above 
mathematics  I"  Luther  appears  to  us  nowhere  less  admir- 
able than  in  this  famous  conference ;  not,  indeed,  for  the 
opinion  vv^Lich  he  defended,  but  for  the  spirit,  at  once  irate, 
violent,  and  dogmatic,  in  which  he  defended  it.  He  kept 
ever  singing  the  same  song,  as  Zwingie  said,  "  This  is  my 
body."  Nothing  could  be  more  unreasoning  and  arbitrary 
than  his  tone,  and  there  is  scarcely  any  absurdity  that 
might  not  be  based  on  Scripture,  in  the  manner  in  which 
he  used  it,  and  considered  it  enough  to  use  it,  on  this 
occasion. 

There  is  something,  moreover,  painful  and  unworthy  of 
him  in  the  terms  in  which  he  characterized  the  Swiss 
divines,   in  his  letters;^  and  in  the  unbending,  unkindly 

1  Brief e,  vol.  iii.  p.  216—513;  vol.  iv.  pp.  28,  29. 


05     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

temper  in  which  he  met  the  warmly-profFered  friendship 
of  Zwingle.  The  character  of  the  latter  —  frank,  gallant, 
fearless ;  a  soldier-reformer,  with  his  Greek  Testament, 
and  nothing  else,  in  his  hand  —  appears  in  a  far  higher 
hght  throughout  the  debate.  But  he  and  Luther  never 
could  understand  one  another;  and  when,  in  the  end  of 
this  very  year,  the  German  heard  of  the  death  of  the  brave 
Swiss,  on  the  sanguinary  field  of  Cappel,  fighting  for  the 
liberties  of  his  country,  there  is  no  sympathy,  but  a  grating 
harshness,  in  the  tone  in  which  he  received  the  sad  news. 
The  Marburg  Conference,  however,  was  not  "without  some 
friendly  and  conciliatory  results,  even  in  matters  of  doc- 
trine, as  the  fourteen  articles,  which  were  at  length  signed 
on  both  sides,  testify.  It  did  not  serve  to  unite  Luther 
and  the  Swiss  more  cordially,  for  he  continued  to  write 
with  an  increasing  vehemence  against  them ;  ^  but  it  served 
to  show,  in  all  things  save  that  of  the  Eucharist,  a  sub- 
stantial unity  of  doctrine  in  the  two  great  branches  of  the 
Reformation,  meeting  locally  together  at  so  many  points. 
In  the  following  year,  we  find  Luther  at  Coburg,  during 
the  memorable  meeting  of  the  Diet  at  Augsburg.  As  the 
imperial  sentence  against  him  had  never  been  recalled,  it 
was  thought  expedient  that  he  should  not  make  his  appear- 
ance at  the  Diet,  but  leave  the  conduct  of  affairs  in  this 
great  crisis  to  Melancthon,  whose  more  courtly  manner 
and  cooler  judgment  were,  in  any  case,  supposed  to  be 
more  fit  for  bringing  the  pending  negotiations  to  some 
favorable  termination.  Luther,  however,  removed  to  Co- 
burg, to  be  conveniently  at  hand  for  consultation;    and, 

1  His  -well-known  and  often-quoted  saying  sufficiently  shows  the  intense 
dislike  with  which  he  continued  to  regard  them  :  "  Happy  is  the  man  who 
has  not  been  of  the  Council  of  the  Sacramentarians  —  who  has  not  walked  in 
the  ways  of  the  Zwingliaus." 


LUTHER.  69 

secure  in  the  strong  fortress  of  the  Elector  there,  he  aban- 
doned himself  to  a  most  joyful  interest  in  nature,  and  a 
variety  of  literary  studies,  while  the  news  of  the  Diet 
floated  to  his  solitude  ;  and,  in  return,  he  counselled,  en- 
couraged, and  warned  Melancthon.  On  the  22d  of  Aju-il, 
he  writes :  "  I  have  at  length  arrived  at  my  Sinai,  dear 
Philip ;  but  of  this  Sinai  I  will  make  a  Sion  :  I  will  raise 
thereon  three  tabernacles  —  one  to  the  Psalmist,  one  to 
the  prophets,  and  one  to  Esop.  It  is  truly  a  pleasant  place, 
and  most  agreeable  for  study,  unless  your  absence  saddens 
me.  ...  I  reside  in  a  vast  abode  which  overlooks  the 
castle;  I  have  the  key  of  all  its  apartments.  There  are 
about  thirty  persons  together,  of  whom  twelve  are  watch- 
ers by  night,  and  two  sentinels  besides,  who  are  constantly 
posted  on  the  castle  heights."  ^  On  the  29th  of  June, 
Avhile  matters  are  proceeding,  and  Melancthon  writes  com- 
plaining of  his  difficulties,  he  replies :  "  To-day  your  last 
news  has  reached  me,  in  which  you  advise  me  of  your 
labors,  your  dangers,  your  tears,  as  if  I  were  ignorant  of 
these  things,  or  sat  in  a  bed  of  roses,  and  bore  no  part  of 
your  c?tres.  Vv^ould  to  God  my  cause  were  such  as  ad- 
mitted of  tears  ! "  '-^  When  he  hears  of  the  Confession 
being  read  in  open  Diet,  he  is  in  great  spirits ;  but  the  fears 
and  anxieties  of  Melancthon,  who  desired  not  merely  to 
maintain  the  reformed  doctrines,  but  to  effect  a  reconcilia- 
tion with  the  Romanists,  speedily  brings  disquiet  to  him. 
He  fell  back  upon  that  in  which  he  was  always  stronger 
than  Melancthon  —  Faith.  "Our  cause  is  deposited,"  he 
said,  "in  a  commonplace  not  to  be  found  in  your  book, 
Philip ;  that  commonplace  is  Faith."  And  in  the  same 
grand  strain  he  wrote  to  the  Chancellor  Bruck :   "  I  was 

1  Briefe,  vol.  iv.  pp.  2,  3.  2  ibij,^  p.  52. 


'0  LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

lately  looking  out  of   my  ^viudow,  when   I  beheld  two 
wonderful  sights.     First,  I  saw  the  stars,  and  God's  fair, 
bright  firmament,  but  nowhere  any  pillars  on  which  the 
Master-builder  had  poised  this  lofty  frame  ;  yet  the  heavens 
did  not  faU  in,  and  the  firmament  stood  quite  fast.     But 
there  are   some  who  search  for  such  pillars,  and  would 
anxiously  grasp  and  feel  them;  and  becaus3  they  cannot 
do  this,  fear  and  tremble  lest  the  heavens  should  fall.    The 
other  spectacle  I  saw  was  a  great  dense  cloud  floating  over 
us,  so  charged  and  burdened  that  it  might  be  hkened  to  a 
mighty  sea,  and  yet  I  could  perceive  notlung  on  which  it 
rested,  no  coffer  in  which  it  was  enclosed;  and  yet  it  fell 
not,  but,  greeting  us  with  a  black  frown,  passed  on.   When 
It  had  passed,   a  rainbow  appeared  — a  weak,  thin,  and 
shght  bow,  which  soon  vanished  into  the  clouds.     T\ow, 
there  are  some  who  think  more  of  the  dense  cloud  than 
of   the  dim  and  slender  bow,  and  are  in  terror  lest  the 
clouds  should  pour  down  an  eternal  deluge.  ...  I  write  to 
your  worship  in  this  famihar,  vet  serious  style,  because  I 
rejoice  to  hear  that  your  courage  has  not  failed.     Our  rain- 
bow, indeed,  appears  a  frail  hope  on  which  to  rest,  and 
their  clouds  are  dark  and  lowering;  but  in  the  end  it  will 
be  seen   who  A^riU  gain  the  victory."  i     In  this  confident 
manner  Luther  encouraged  liis  friends,  and  feared  for  him- 
self no  evil.    It  seems  a  grand  and  heroic  spectacle  —this 
soHtary  man,  in  the  old  fortress  of  Coburg,  looking  out 
upon  nature  and  the  worid  ^irith  such  a  calm^  clear  trust  in 
God,  mterested  in  the  proceedings  at  Augsburg,  ^^et  feel- 
ing, with  the  fulness  of  a  livmg  faith,  how  much  greater 
was  Providence  than  the  negotiations  of  princes,  — and 
with  what  mysterious   safety  the  wheels  of  the  worid's 

1  Briefe,  vol,  iv,  pp.  128,  129. 


LUTHER.  71 

progress  were  revolving,  whatever  the  poor  pride  of  man 
might  counsel  or  devise.  The  jackdaws  and  rooks,  as 
they  convened  in  circling  crowds  in  f\-ont  of  his  window, 
seemed  to  him  not  an  unfitting  emblem  of  the  "  magnani- 
mous kings,  dukes,  and  nobles,"  consulting  over  the  affairs 
of  the  realm  at  Augsburg.  As  he  watched  their  move- 
ments, and  saw  them  "flap  their  wings,  and  strut  viriih 
mimic  majesty,  not  clad  in  royal  atthe,  but  glossy -black  or 
dark-gro.y,  having  eyes  of  ashy  paleness,  and  singing  the 
same  unvaiying  song,  diversified  only  by  the  weaker  tones 
or  more  discordant  notes  of  the  young  or  inexperienced," 
he  thought  of  the  great  princes  and  lords  amusing  them- 
selves with  weak  inconsequence  over  the  movements  of 
the  world,  which  they  vainly  imagined  within  their  con- 
trol. What  a  fresh,  living  glance  was  that  which  looked 
from  these  high  and  lonely  \\dndows  upon  the  heavens 
above  and  the  joyous  creatures  of  nature  around,  in  com- 
parison with  those  worn  and  beclouded  eyes  of  statecraft 
and  priestcraft,  which  sought  to  measure,  from  the  limits 
of  their  own  weak  vision,  the  interests  and  destinies  of 


On  from  this  point  the  life  of  Luther  narrows  greatly  in 
incident,  and  we  cannot  pause  over  any  special  features  it 
presents.  The  establishment  of  the  Protestant  Creed  at 
Augsburg,  in  1530,  may  be  said  to  constitute  the  highes 
point  of  tlie  German  E.eformation.  The  years  after  this 
are  years  of  reiictionary  soitoav,  more  than  anything  else, 
with  no  abatement  of  activity,  but  with  no  further  hearty 
and  favorable  advance.  Luther  himself  had  for  some 
time  ceased  to  entertain  any  further  projects  of  reform; 
and  after  this  period,  his  conservative  tendencies  gathered 
always  greater  force.  The  wild  excitements  of  the  period, 
and  especially  the  terrifying  invasion  of  the  Turks,  and  the 


t 


72     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

dreadful  excesses  of  the  Anabaptists,  which  broke  out 
afresh  in  the  north,  in  the  year  1526,  under  the  leadership 
of  John  of  Leyden,  all  tended  to  sadden  and  moderate 
his  spirit.  The  imminence  of  war  between  the  Emperor 
and  the  Protestant  prhices,  bound  together  by  the  Smalkald 
League,  was  a  further  source  of  grief  and  anxiety  to  him; 
and,  to  crown  the  whole,  the  affair  of  the  Landgrave  of 
Hesse,  in  1536,  proved  a  humiliating  and  dark  trial,  wliich, 
though  he  bore  it  more  cheerfully  than  Melancthon  (whom 
it  nearly  killed),  left,  as  his  letters  plainly  show,  its  gloomy 
shadow  upon  his  temper  and  the  prospects  of  the  cause  so 
dear  to  him.  "  Who  is  not  now  ruffled  by  the  folly  of 
Luther?"  he  wrote,  in  bitterness  of  spirit,  to  a  friend  who 
asked  him  to  be  present  at  his  marriage,  while  excusing 
his  absence.  Altogether,  these  last  years  were  years  of 
sadness,  so  far  as  the  pubhc  aspects  of  the  reformer's  life 
were  concerned.  It  was  well  for  him  that  he  had  a  dear 
home,  and  happy  wife  and  children,  in  whose  society  he 
solaced  himself,  amidst  all  his  troubles.  "  My  little  Mag- 
dalen, and  my  little  John,  too,  pray  for  me,"  he  says.  "  I 
love  my  Catherine  —  I  love  her  more  than  I  do  myself; 
for  I  would  die  rather  than  any  harm  should  happen  to  her 
or  to  her  children."  The  hght  of  his  cheerful  German 
hearth  burned  undimmed  to  the  last,  and  rose  only  brighter 
amid  the  darkness  of  his  outer  life. 

The  circumstances  of.  his  death  were  befitting  his  noble 
life.  On  the  23d  of  January,  1546,  he  left  his  loved  Wit- 
tenberg, on  a  mission  of  conciliation  between  the  Counts 
of  Mansfield,  the  lords  of  his  native  soil,  who  had  long 
been  at  variance  with  one  another,  but  had  offered  to  sub- 
mit their  dispute  to  the  reformer's  arbitration.  For  some 
time  previously,  his  mind  had  been  filled  Avith  thoughts  of 
death ;  and,  on  his  journey,  presentiments  of  his  approach- 


LUTHER.  73 

ing  end  haunted  him.  "  When  I  come  hack  from  Eisleben 
I  will  lay  me  in  my  coffin ;  the  world  is  weary  of  me,  and 
I  of  the  world;  pray  God  that  he  will  mercifidly  grant 
me  a  peaceful  death."  The  prayer  was  granted.  On  the 
1-lth  of  February,  he  wrote  to  his  "  dear  Kelha"  that  his 
work  of  peace  was  all  but  concluded.  Two  days  after,  he 
was  overheard  in  earnest  prayer  while  standing,  as  he  Avas 
Avont  to  do,  in  the  window.  TliO  next  day  he  was  unwell, 
and  the  idea  of  death  again  came  vividly  to  his  mind.  "  I 
was  born  and  baptized  here  in  Eisleben  ;  what  if  I  am 
likewise  to  die  here  ? "  He  was  still  able,  however,  the 
same  day  to  dine  and  sup  with  his  friends,  and  somewhat 
enjoy  himself.  During  the  night  his  illness  increased.  He 
suffered  from  oppression  of  the  chest  and  severe  pains.  He 
was  joined  by  his  friends,  in  alarm ;  a  soothing  draught  was 
administered  to  him,  and  he  murmured,  "  If  I  could  fall 
asleep  for  half  an  hour,  I  think  it  would  do  me  good." 
Sleep  came  for  a  little,  but  did  not  bring  him  relief  Dur- 
ing the  whole  of  the  next  day,  his  friends,  and  his  two  sons, 
who  were  with  him,  watched  by  his  bedside  as  he  graduall}^ 
sank.  "  Do  you  die  in  the  faith  of  Christ,  and  the  doctrine 
you  have  preached  ?"  he  was  asked,  by  Dr.  Jones,  as  con- 
sciousness was  departing.  He  answered  "  Yes,"  closed 
his  eyes,  and  fell  asleep  ;  and  at  last,  with  one  deep  sigh, 
slept  his  last.  By  the  command  of  the  Elector,  his  body 
was  brought  in  solemn  procession  from  Eisleben  to  Witten- 
berg, and  laid  in  the  church  whose  walls  had  so  often  re- 
sounded with  his  eloquence.  Melancthon  pronounced  an 
oration  over  his  tomb ;  and  sobs  and  tears  from  the  con- 
gregated thousands,  —  men,  ^vomen,  and  children,  —  who 
had  loved  the  great  monk,  mingled  with  the  words  of  his 
admiring  and  faithful  friend. 

7 


74     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFOKMATION. 

The  character  of  Luther,  as  presented  in  o.ar  rapid  sur- 
vey, is  especially  distinguished  for  its  broad  and  massive 
manliness.  Everywhere,  and  preeminently,  Luther  is  a 
man  with  a  heart  alive  to  all  true  human  feehng,  and  burn- 
ing with  the  most  earnest  and  passionate  aspirations  after 
human  good.  When  we  remember  that  he  was  trained  a 
monk,  and  was  in  fact  a  monk  till  he  was  about  forty-two 
years  of  age,  —  that  books  rather  then  men  were  his  chief 
study  during  the  most  fresh  and  formative  period  of  life, — 
it  is  truly  wonderful  to  recognize  in  him  such  a  breadth  and 
intensity,  such  a  variety  and  richness  of  human  interest 
and  affection.  Scholastic  in  the  spirit  of  his  theology,  sa- 
credotal  to  the  last  in  many  of  his  convictions,  he  Avas,  of  all 
the  reformers,  the  least  technical  and  narrow  and  eccle- 
siastical in  feeling.  His  genial  and  vivifying  humanity 
broke  through  all  conventional  bounds,  brushed  them  aside, 
and,  more  than  anything  else,  except  the  spiritual  truth 
■which  he  preached,  brought  him  near  to  the  heart  of  the 
German  people.  Had  he  been  less  of  a  man  and  more  of 
a  scholar,  less  animated  by  a  common  and  popular  sympa- 
thy, and  more  animated  by  mere  intellectual  impulse,  he 
could  never  have  achieved  the  work  that  he  did.  It  is  but 
a  poor  and  one-sided  criticism,  therefore,  which  delights  to 
expose  Luther's  intellectual  inconsistencies,  unscholarlj 
temper,  and  unphilosophical  spirit.^  The  truth  is,  that 
Luther  was  not  characteristically  a  scholar,  not  even  a 
divine,  least  of  all  a  philosopher.  He  was  a  hero  with 
work  to  do ;  and  he  did  it.     His  powers  were  exactly  fitted 

'  Hallam  has  perhaps  gn-en  the  tone  to  this  criticism  in  England ;  although, 
in  what  he  says  of  Luther,  it  is  more  the  depreciator}^  spirit  of  his  e^tatements 
than  their  substantial  injustice  that  is  remarkable.  They  are  cold  and  un- 
sympathetic, and  wholly  inadequate  to  the  subject;  but,  from  his  point  of 
view,  less  unfair  than  to  some  they  may  appear. 


LUTHER.  To 

to  the  task  to  which  God  called  him.  As  it  was  of  Titanic 
magnitude,  he  required  to  he  a  Titan  in  human  strength, 
and  in  depth  and  power,  and  even  violence  of  human  pas- 
sion, in  order  to  accomplish  it.  The  mere  breadth  and 
momentum  of  his  humanity,  by  themselves,  would  not,  in- 
deed, have  sufficed;  but,  inspired  and  swayed  by  Divine 
truth,  they  were  irresistible.  Both  conditions  were  equally 
necessary  to  his  success  —  the  energy,  vehemence,  and 
pith  of  the  man  ;  the  animation,  control,  and  sway  of  the 
Divine  Spirit.  Had  ihe  instrument  been  less  powerful  and 
varied,  less  full-toned  and  responsive  to  all  the  rich  waver- 
ing breath  of  human  emotion,  the  Spirit  might  have 
breathed  in  vain,  and  the  full  chorus  of  resounding  triumph 
from  many  gathering  voices  never  have  been  raised.  To 
initiate  the  reform  movement,  which  was  destined  to  renew 
the  face  of  Europe,  and  to-give  a  higher  impulse,  and  nobler 
and  more  enduring  life  to  all  the  Saxon  nations,  it  required 
a  strong  and  gigantic  will,  like  that  of  Luther,  which,  in- 
stead of  being  crushed  by  opposition  or  frightened  by 
hatred,  only  rose  in  the  face  of  both  into  a  prouder  and 
grander  attitude  of  daring.  As  he  himself  said :  "  To  clear 
the  air  and  to  render  the  earth  more  fertile,  it  is  not  enough 
that  the  rain  should  water  and  penetrate  its  surface ;  there 
needs  also  the  thunder  and  lightning."^  And  he  acknowl- 
edged himself  to  be  the  impersonation  of  the  latter. 

And  yet,  with  all  this  manly  energy  and  vehemence  of 
character,  Luther,  we  have  already  seen,  was  no  radical  in 
his  reforms.  His  moderation  was,  at  least,  as  conspicuous 
as  his  energy ;  aiad  we  shall  greatly  misapprehend  both  him 
and  his  work,  if  we  do  not  perceive  this.  He  was  very 
little  of  a  theorist.     He  fought  for  the  truth,  as  God  had  re- 

*  Bviefe,  vol.  iv.  p.  149. 


ib  LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

vealed  it  to  him.  But  of  all  the  reformers,  except  Latimer, 
none  fought  less  for  mere  schemes  or  devices  of  his  own 
to  supplant  the  old  fabric  of  the  church.  He  Avould  nalher 
rebuild  and  })iirify  it  than  supersede  it.  In  his  own  lan- 
guage, "  he  Avas  never  for  throwing  away  the  old  shoes  till 
he  had  got  new  ones."  Of  a  certain  preacher  who  was 
flying  high,  and  carrying  things  out  in  a  violent  spirit  of 
innovation,  he  writes  :  "  What  good  can  result  from  all  this 
precipitation  ?  I  myself  preached  nearly  three  years  before 
I  preached  such  questions,  while  these  people  think  to 
settle  the  whole  business  in  half  an  hour.  I  beg  you  Avill 
enjoin  the  preacher  to  observe  more  moderation  in  future, 
and  to  begin  with  making  his  people  thoroughly  understand 
Jesus  Christ."^  It  was  this  spirit  of  moderation  that  set 
him  resolutely  against  Carlsladt.  Innovation  for  its  own 
sake,  —  innovation  for  the  sake  of  uniformity  in  different 
churches,  —  all  that  marks  so  intensely  the  later  history 
of  Protestantism  in  Geneva  and  elsewhere,  was  unintel- 
ligible, and  would  have  been  thoroughly  uncongenial  to 
him. 

So  far,  and  as  a  mere  practical  spirit,  his  moderation 
appears  entirely  commendable  ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
that  he  carried  his  moderation  farther  than  this.  He  not 
only  did  not  hke  changes,  but  he  naturally  shrank  from 
new  views.  His  mind  as  well  as  his  practice  was  strongly 
conservative  ;  the  truth  only  reached  him  at  first  through  a 
struggle  and  wrench  of  his  whole  being,  so  violent  that  he 
could  not  bear  to  repeat  the  process.  After  admitting  one 
streaming  flood  of  light,  he  shut  himself  closely  against  its 
farther  ingress.  He  possessed  none  of  that  calmly  specu- 
lative and  inquiring  spirit,  which  is  ever  going  out  in  search 

'  Brief e,  vol.  ii.  p.  423. 


LUTHEK.  77 

of  truth  in  all  directions,  and  unfolding  itself  more  and  more 
to  the  sunlight  of  discovery.  He  was  both  too  logical  and 
too  practical,  too  dogmatic  and  too  immediate  in  his  judg- 
ments, to  permit  of  such  a  consistent  intellectual  progress. 
His  mind  required  to  be  girded  by  clear  and  strong  convic- 
tions, within  the  sphere  of  which  his  activity  knew  no 
bounds  ;  but  no  soaring  aspirations  after  a  higher  truth  than 
that  which  had  seized  him,  as  it  were,  by  divine  violence, 
haunted  him ;  and  he  would  have  thought  it  mere  idle 
vanity  to  dream  of  any  such  higher  and  more  comprehen- 
sive truth.  It  is  this  which  constitutes  at  once  the  disap- 
pointment of  his  later  years,  and  his  weakness  and  defects 
as  a  mere  theologian.  He  would  not  advance  with  Carl- 
stadt ;  and  so  far  he  was  right.  He  would  have  nothing 
to  do  Avith  Zwingle  and  the  Sacramentarians ;  and  so  far  he 
was  honest.  We  respect  his  independence  in  both  cases. 
But  he  would  not  only  not  advance  with  others  —  he  would 
not  advance  at  all.  He  would  not  open  his  mind  to  the 
free  air  of  heaven  as  it  breathed  in  Scripture ;  and  he  was 
angry  and  violent  with  all  who  went  beyond  himself.  He 
spoke  with  contemptuous  dogmatism  of  the  Swiss  divines, 
and  he  had  little  patience  even  with  Melancthon's  cautious 
and  well-balanced  progress,  and  his  more  subtle  and  com- 
prehensive insight  into  the  dogmas  of  the  Reformation.  If 
we  regard  Luther,  therefore,  as  a  mere  theologian,  it  is  fair 
enough  to  object  to  his  violence,  his  narrowness,  his  one- 
sidedness  ;  but  it  is  far  from  fair  to  regard  him  merely  or 
mainly  in  this  point  of  view.  As  a  theological  thinker,  he 
takes  no  high  rank,  and  has  left  little  or  no  impress  upon 
human  history.  The  very  qualities,  however,  which  made 
his  weakness  as  a  thinker,  were  so  far  from  retarding,  that 
they  helped  his  work  of  reform.  His  impatience,  his  in- 
tensity, and  crudeness  of  apprehension,  and  his  coarseness 

7# 


78     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

of  handling,  are  but  poor  arms  of  reason ;  but  they  are 
manful  and  honest  Aveapons  in  a  struggle  for  hfe  or  death  ; 
and  they  carried  him  triunipliantly  through,  when  others  of 
a  less  robust  and  hardy  texture  would  have  yielded  and 
been  overpowered. 

If  we  add  to  this  strong  manliness  the  most  simple  and 
pure  afFectionateness,  a  rich  and  powerful  humor,  an  ex- 
quisite tenderness  of  feeling  under  all  his  occasional 
coarseness  of  language,  and  the  most  vivid  appreciation 
of  life  and  nature,  the  outline  of  his  character  is  only 
partially  filled  up.  It  is  im})Ossible  to  conceive  any  nature 
more  frank,  open,  and  genial,  than  that  which  the  doaiestic 
history  of  the  reformer  discovers.  He  lays  bare  his  heart, 
with  the  most  guileless  and  winning  simpUcitj ;  he  has  the 
most  gay  and  jovial  relish  of  al?  that  is  pure  and  good, 
however  trivial,  in  life,  —  sharing  in  the  amusements  of 
his  children,  counselling  with  his  wife  how  to  reward  an 
old  servant,  entering  with  the  most  earnest  cordiality  into 
the  joys  of  his  friends,  and  sharing  his  warm  tears  with 
them  in  their  sorrows.  None  but  a  man  of  the  most  gen- 
uine kindliness  could  have  ever  bound  fast  to  him  so  many 
friends  as  Luther  did,  — old  schoolfellows,  such  as  Nicolas 
Eniler  and  John  E-einacke ;  brother  monks,  such  as  John 
Lange,  whom  he  made  Prior  of  Erfurt;  and  all  his  more 
immediate  fellow-laborers  in  Wittenberg,  —  Amsdorf,  Jus- 
tus Jonas,  Bugenhagen,  Luke  Cranach,  and  Melancthon, — 
not  to  speak  of  the  Elector  Frederick  and  his  secretary, 
Spalatin.  It  was  no  mere  bond  of  interest  or  of  accident 
that  bound  these  brave  men  together,  but,  above  all,  the 
great  heart  and  diffusive  kindliness  of  Luther,  as  the 
central  figure  around  whom  they  gathered.  How  exquisite 
the  kindly  hilarity  and  tender-heartedness  with  which  he 
wrote  to  Spalatin  after  his  marriage  I     "  If  you  will  come 


LUTHER.  79 

to  me,  you  will  see  some  monument  of  our  old  love  and 
friendship.  I  have  planted  a  garden  and  built  a  fountain, 
botli  with  great  success.  Come,  and  you  shall  be  crowned 
with  lilies  and  roses." 

Intimately  allied  with,  and  springing  out  of,  both  his 
affectionateness  and  manliness,  was  his  humor,  —  the  rich 
emollient  softening  all  his  asperities,  and  dropping  like  a 
pleasant  balm  in  the  midst  of  his  harshest  controversies. 
The  difference  between  Erasmus  and  him  is  somewhat  the 
difference  between  wit  and  humor,  —  not  that  the  author 
of  the  Colloquies  can  be  said  to  want  humor,  in  his  sly 
sallies  at  the  follies  of  monkish  superstition ;  yet  that 
depth  and  richness  of  sympathy  which  is  the  most  charac- 
teristic difference  of  humor  from  wit,  is  comparatively 
wanting  in  Erasmus.  No  contrast  can  be  more  marked 
than  the  covert  and  ingenious  sarcasm,  the  subtle  point 
and  pungent  dilemmas  of  the  one,  and  the  riotous  attack, 
open-eyed  gayety,  and  hilarious  laughter  of  the  other.  In 
Luther's  humor,  powerful  as  it  is,  there  mixes  no  bitter- 
ness, lie  is  blunt,  but  never  cynical.  He  dislikes  in- 
trusion, and  laughs  at  ignorance,  but  never  in  a  harsh  way. 
A  man  once  came  from  the  Low  Countries,  to  dispute  with 
him  about  all  sorts  of  things.  He  remarks :  "  When  I  saw 
what  a  poor  ignorant  creature  he  was,  I  said  to  liim, 
'  Had  n't  we  better  dispute  over  a  can  or  two  of  beer  ? ' " 
.-His  heart  is  not  pained  and  fretted  by  the  contrasts  Avhich 
touch  his  imagination.  They  sometimes  weary,  but  sel- 
dom chafe  or  vex  him ;  more  frequently  they  only  kindle 
in  him  a  wild  spirit  of  glee,  which  breaks  forth  in  sparkles 
of  laughter  or  shouts  of  defiant  jollity.  But,  beneath  all 
his  uproarious  fun,  there  lie  depths  of  tenderness  and  sad- 
ness, a  passionate  unrest  and  "  unnamable  melancholy." 
The  pathos,  and  distance,  and  gentleness  of  many  of  his 


80     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATIO  >^. 

allusions,  show  that  lie  had  a  saddened  and  shadowed 
heart,  that  felt  nnutterably  the  awful  mystery  of  life  and 
death.  The  thoughts  of  his  daring  and  strange  career 
would  sometimes  awaken  this  hidden  chord  of  grief.  As 
he  and  Catherine  were  walking  in  the  garden,  one  even- 
ing, the  stars  shone  with  unusual  brilliancy.  "  What  a 
briUiant  light ! "  said  Luther,  as  he  looked  upward ;  "  but 
it  burns  not  for  us."  — "  And  why  are  we  to  be  shut  out 
from  the  kingdom  of  heaven?"  asked  Catherine.  "Per- 
haps," said  Luther,  with  a  sigh,  |' because  we  left  our 
convents." — "  Shall  we  return,  then?  "  —  "  No,"  he  replied, 
"  it  is  too  late  to  do  that." 

The  sights  and  sounds  of  nature  all  touch  him,  now 
with  joy,  and  now  with  pathetic  aspiration.  Of  all  the 
reformers,  we  see  in  him  alone  this  elevated  susceptibility 
to  natural  grandeur  and  beauty.  In  the  view  of  these,  his 
poetic  depth  and  richness  of  feeling  come  strongly  into 
play.  The  flowers,  the  birds,  the  "  bounteous  thunder, 
shaking  the  earth  and  rousing  it,  that  its  fruits  may  come 
forth  and  spread  a  perfume ; "  the  troubled  sky,  and  the 
dark  and  heaving  clouds  poised  overhead,  and  guided  by 
the  swift  and  invisible  hand  of  God ;  the  quiet  loveliness 
of  the  harvest-fields,  on  his  return  home  from  Leipzig ; 
the  little  bird  perched  at  sunset  in  his  garden,  and  folding 
its  wings  trustfully  under  the  care  of  the  Almighty  Father ; 
the  first  song  of  the  nightingale,  —  all  touch  him  with 
emotion,  and  awaken  his  tender  or  solemn  interest.  The 
sprouting  branches  of  his  garden  trees,  "  strong  and  beau- 
tiful, and  big  with  the  fruit  that  they  shall  bring  forth," 
make  liim  think  of  the  resurrection,  and  of  the  awakening 
of  the  soul  after  the  wintry  sleep  of  death.  Luther  was, 
in  truth,  a  poet,  gifted  not  only  with  the  keen  appreciation 
and  life  of  feeling  that  constitute  poetic  sensibility,  but, 


LUTHER.  81 

moreover,  witli  that  mastery  of  melodious  expression 
which  makes  the  fulness  of  the  "  gift  and  facuUy  divine." 
His  love  of  music,  his  love  of  nature  and  liberty,  and, 
above  all,  his  heroic  faith,  inspire  his  hymns  with  a  rap- 
ture of  lyrical  feeling  and  excellence  rarely  reached. 
These  beautiful  and  stirring  utterances,  escaping  from 
him,  as  Heine  says,  "  like  a  flower  making  its  way  be- 
tween rough  stones,  or  a  moonbeam  glittering  amid  dark 
clouds,"^  appropriately  grace  the  grand  and  rugged  life  of 
this  man,  and  shed  a  joy  of  harmony  over  all  its  battling 
discords. 

Upon  the  whole,  we  have  before  us  a  tender  as  well  as 
energetic  character  —  softness  mingling  with  strength,  sad- 
ness with  humor,  gentleness  with  power.  History  presents 
m.any  more  complete  or  symmetrical  chai-acters,  —  few 
greater,  —  none  more  rich  in  diverse  elements  of  human 
feeling  and  -moral  aspiration.  No  selfishness,  nor  vanity, 
nor  mere  vulgar  ambition,  meet  us,  amid  all  his  proud 
consciousness  qf  power  or  most  high-handed  dogmatism  ; 
but  everywhere,  even  when  we  can  least  sympathize  with 
him,  we  see  an  honest  and  magnanimous  nature,  swayed 
by  a  living  faith  and  glowing  earnestness  —  a  great  soul, 
moved  by  passionate  conviction  and  sublimed  by  a  divine 
tliought. 


It  remains  for  us  to  inquire  concerning  the  main  thought 
that  moved  Luther,  and  animated  him  in  all  his  w^ork.  It 
requires  but  little  penetration  to  discover  that  he  was  pos- 
sessed by  such  a  thought,  —  that  a  profound  principle  — a 
single  inspiring  spiritual  idea  —  ran  through  the  wdiole  of 

'  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  March  1834. 


82     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

this  great  movement,  and,  more  than  anythmg  else,  gave 
direction  and  strength  and  triumph  to  it. 

Many  other  influences  were  no  doubt  at  work.  With 
the  commencement  of  the  sixteenth  century,  there  was  a 
dawning  hfe  of  national  feeling  and  of  literary  culture  all 
through  the  southern  and  western  nations  of  Europe. 
Germany  was  in  a  special  manner  moved  and  agitated  by 
such  influences ;  but  none  of  these,  nor  all  of  them  con- 
currently, can  be  held  as  adequately  accounting  for  the 
Reformation.  They  prepared  the  soil,  but  nothing  more. 
Erasmus  turned  the  ploughshare  of  his  sharp  intelligence 
into  it,  and  cast  it  up,  and  left  it  receptive;  but  he  did  not 
enrich  it  with  any  living  germs  of  truth.  Reuchlin  and 
his  Humanist  coadjutors,  in  their  famous  conflict  ■with  the 
monks  of  Cologne,  not  only  strengthened  the  labors  of 
Erasmus,  but,  in  a  very  clear  and  decisive  manner,  proved 
the  hopeless  ignorance  and  incapacity  of  their  monkish 
opponents ;  and  then  the  free  secular,  or  war  party,  headed 
by  Franz  von  Seckingen  and  Hiitten,  and  afterwards  by 
the  Landgrave  of  Hesse,  rallied  to  them  a  strong  pohtical 
feeling,  bursting  forth  on  all  sides  against  the  ecclesiastical 
reactions  and  unnational  bigotries  of  Rome.  These  lit- 
erary and  political  powers  may  be  all  distinctly  traced, 
working,  at  the  time,  in  Germany,  toward  the  same  end. 
A  satirical  pen  was  the  chosen  weapon  of  the  one,  a 
sword  the  proferred  ^veapon  of  the  other ;  and  the  fearless 
and  hapless  Ulrick  von  Hiitten  is  found  equally  ready  with 
his  pen  or  with  his  sword.  He  is  a  strange,  restless,  and 
gallant  figure,  this  knight  of  the  Reformation,  the  coop- 
erator  both  of  Humanists  and  Secularists,  and,  more  than 
any  one  else,  the  bond  of  connection  between  both  and 
Luther.  Luther  could  not  approve  of  his  projects,  but 
he  liked  his  independence  and  courage ;  and  he  mourned 


LUTHER.  83 

his  early  death,  while  the  cold  sarcasms  of  Erasmus  cast 
bitter  ashes  over  his  grave. ^ 

Starting  from  the  midst  of  these  movements,  stimulated 
and,  no  doubt,  greatly  aided  by  them,  the  Reformation  had 
yet  its  real  origin  deeper  below  the  surface  than  either 
Humanism  or  Nationalism.  It  was  characteristically  a 
spiritual  revolt  —  an  awakening  of  the  individual  con- 
science in  the  light  of  the  old  Gospel,  for  centuries  im[)ris- 
oned  and  obscured  in  the  dim  chambers  of  men's  traditions, 
but  now  at  length  breaking  forth  with  renewed  radiance. 
This  was  the  life  and  essence  of  Luther's  own  personal 
struggle,  and  this  it  was  which  formed  the  spring  of  all 
his  labors,  and  gave  them  such  a  pervading  and  mighty 
energy.  Tiie  principle  of  moral  individualism,  —  of  the 
free,  responsible  relation  of  every  soul  to  God,  —  this  it  is 
which  stamps  the  movement  of  Luther  with  its  character- 
istic impress,  and,  more  than  any  other  thing,  enables  us  to 
understand  its  power  and  success.  It  is  nothing  else  than 
what  we  call,  in  theological  language,  justification  hy  faith 
alone;  but  we  prefer  to  apprehend  it  in  this  more  general 
and  ethical  form  of  expression. 

It  was  this  element  of  individualism  that  had  become 
especially  corrupted,  during  many  centuries  of  ecclesias- 
tical bondage.  Scholasticism  on  the  one  hand,  and  monk- 
ery on  the  other,  had  crushed  it  out  of  sight.  A  vast 
system  of  traditionalism,  covering  with  its  ample  and  pene- 
trating folds  every  sphere  of  thought  and  every  phase  of 


1  Hiitten  was  the  chief  autlior  of  the  famous  Literce,  Ohscurorum  Virormn, 
which  have  been  recently  reedited,  and  attracted  renewed  notice.  His  hfe, 
also,  has  been  recently  written,  with  great  fulness  and  skill,  by  Strauss.  Pic 
died  in  1523.  In  the  same  year  appeared  Erasmus's  attack  upon  him,  under 
the  title  of  Sponffia,  &c.  —  provoked,  no  doubt,  by  Hiitten's  own  virulence  in 
his  Expostulatio  cum  Erasmo  Roiterdamo. 


84     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

society,  left  no  room  for  any  fresh  and  healthy  mdividnal 
hfe.  The  shadow  of  an  encompassing  authority  rested  on 
all,  and  restrained  all  within  its  monotonous  and  rigid 
sway.  Both  scholasticism  and  monkery,  indeed,  on  from 
the  twelfth  century,  remain  among  the  most  marvellous 
monuments  of  human  energy  that  the  world  has  ever  wit- 
nessed,—  the  one  a  gigantic  structure  of  logical  enthusi- 
asm, and  the  other  a  picturesque  and  stirring  drama  of 
missionary  adventure,  of  which  we  can  scarcely  be  said  to 
have  any  modern  parallels.  And  yet  there  was,  Avithal,  no 
freedom  of  mental  or  spiritual  movement.  The  vast 
energies  of  these  centuries  circulated  entirely  within  arti- 
ficial and  prescribed  limits.  They  operated  with  a  power 
and  results  at  which  we  wonder,  but  still  only  beneath  an 
incubus  of  priestly  tradition,  which  left  the  soul  confined, 
and  at  a  distance  from  God.  The  individual  was  nothing ; 
the  school,  or  the  church,  was  everything ;  and  during  the 
fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  this  moral  stagnation 
had  deadened  into  absolute  corruption.  Farther  and  farther 
the  scholastic  doctrine  had  separated  itself  from  Scripture, 
and  the  monastic  piety  from  the  life  of  faith.  The  one,  in 
such  representatives  as  Eck  and  Emser,  had  degenerated 
into  a  dogmatism  at  once  fierce  and  frivolous ;  the  other, 
as  in  Luther's  brother  monks  at  Erfurt,  into  an  asceticism 
at  once  pretentious  and  ridiculous.  In  various  forms,  the 
smouldering  life  of  these  centuries  had  continued  to  show 
itself;  it  had  burst  forth  in  the  magnanimous  intrepidity 
of  Jerome  and  Huss,  and  the  beautiful  mysticism  of  Tauler 
and  the  Theologia  Germanica ;  but  now,  at  length,  the 
fire  of  a  strong  individual  conviction  was  kindled  in  the 
convent  at  Erfurt,  which  was  destined  to  break  forth  into 
shining,  and  cover  with  its  glory  the  face  of  Europe. 

Luther  had  tried  scholasticism  and  tried  monkery,  and 


.LUTHER.  85 

found  both  to  be  wanting.  So  far  from  bringing  him  near 
to  God,  they  had  hid  God  from  him,  and  left  him  miserable 
in  his  Aveakness  and  sinfuhiess.  The  poor  priest,  thirsting 
for  righteousness,  found  himself  fed  on  "  sentences."  The 
great  human  heart  of  Luther,  full  of  spiritual  depths  and 
sensibiUties,  could  not  nourish  itself  on  the  writings  of  the 
schoolmen ;  and  his  frequently  expressed  bitterness  against 
Seotists  and  Thomists  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  mere  vehe- 
mence of  temi)er,  but  as  the  strong  reaction  of  his  intel- 
lectual and  spiritual  character  against  the  useless  subtle- 
ties in  which  he  had  once  sought  satisfaction.  Monkery, 
again,  had  failed  even  more  signally  in  his  experience. 
He  had  sought  spiritual  peace,  through  its  most  painfil 
observances,  with  a  single-hearted  earnestness.  Its  distant 
heaven,  spanned  by  a  bridge  of  painful  and  sore  travel,  he 
had  spared  no  toil  or  weariness  to  reach.  His  body  and 
soul  were  reduced  to  the  last  extremity  by  fastings  and 
penances,  and  the  heaven  of  his  desire  seemed  as  far  off 
as  ever.  Cherishing  the  most  profound  faith  in  the  sup- 
posed spiritual  guardianship  of  the  church,  he  had  passed 
within  its  pale  an  abject  worshipper,  craving  salvation 
by  tiie  most  humiliating  submissions  and  earnest  prayers, 
and  yet  he  had  not  found  it.  "  Sin  was  always  too  strong 
for  him,"  as  he  said :  he  could  not  expel  it  by  the  most 
untiring  vigils,  or  the  most  unrelenting  mortifications.  He 
was  actually  driven,  therefore,  to  seek  light  and  comfort 
elsewhere ;  and  the  \vords  of  Staupitz  and  of  the  aged 
monk  came  to  him  as  a  new  truth.  Gradually  the  words 
of  Scripture  revealed  to  him  a  new  righteousness,  and 
it  became  the  one  pervading  and  triumphant  joy  of  his 
heart.  He  felt  that  the  divine  way  of  salvation  was  not  as 
that  of  man.  Works  of  the  church,  works  even  of  piet}', 
sunk  out  of  sight  before  the  overmastering  and  glad  con- 


86     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

viction  of   God's  free   grace   to  the    soul  —  to   the   indi- 
vidual. 

It  is  remarkable'  how  completely  Luther  apprehended 
his   new  creed  in  this  polemical  form  —  how  it  shaped 
itself  in  his  mind,  doctrinally,  as  an  opposing  tenet  to  the 
"  Aristotelic"  principle  with  which  he  had  been  working, 
—  which  had  expressed  itself  dominantly,  at  once  in  his 
scholastic  training  and  his  ascetic  discipline,  —  the  princi- 
ple, viz.,  "  that  a  man  becomes  just  by  doing  just  acts." 
"We  must  first  be  just,"  he  said,  in  one  of  his  earliest 
vindications  of  his  favorite  doctrine,  "  and  then  we  shall 
do  just  actions."    The  heart  must  be  changed  — the  result 
will  follow.     "  Without  faith  in  'Christ,  men  may  become 
Fabricii  or  Reguli,  but  can  no  more  become  holy  than  a 
crab-apple  can  become  a  fig."     Highteousness,  in  short,  is 
I  from  within,  not  from  without  —  a  divinely  implanted  life 
I   of  faith,  and  not  a  formal  life  of  works.      It  springs  di- 
\    rectly  out  of  the  relation  of  the  soul  to  God,  and  not  out 
1    of   any  outward  mortifications,  or  even  tentative   moral 
I  habits. 

V  Tliis  bare  assertion  of  individualism  does  not  indeed 
exhaust  the  doctrine  of  Luther.  It  was  poor  comfort. to 
him,  —  rather  the  most  gloomy  misery,  —  so  long  as  he 
merely  felt  that  all  his  penances  were  worthless,  and  that 
God  could  alone  save  him.  He  only  got  peace  when  at 
length  he  recognized,  moreover,  how  God  is  in  Christ  a 
Saviour  —  when  the  forgiveness  of  sins  became  to  him  a 
living,  divine  fact,  once  for  all  expressed  in  Christ.  Then 
he  realized  that  righteousness  not  only  could  not  begin 
from  without,  but  not  even  from  within,  in  any  partial  or 
selfish  sense,  hut  from  Christ  ivithin  —  from  the  union  of 
the  divine  and  human,  from  the  heart  apprehended  by 
Christ,  and  apprehending  him  as  the  source  of  all  strength 


LUTHER.  87 

and  salvation.  And  this  is  the  full  doctrine  of  justification 
by  faith,  when  the  immediate  responsibilities  of  the  soul 
to  God  are  met  and  consummated  in  Christ.  Then  only 
does  t+ie  bondage  of  sin  fall  away  from  it,  and  the  joy  of  a 
divine  righteousness  becomes  its  portion. 
'■  It  was  this  reality  of  moral  freedom  in  Christ  —  this 
undoing  of  the  heavy  burdens  that  had  lain  on  the  human 
conscience  —  that,  more  than  all  else,  gave  impulse  and 
triumph  to  the  Reformation.  The  hearts  of  men  were 
weary  with  seeking  salvation  in  the  way  of  the  priests; 
and  as  the  voice  of  the  monk  of  Wittenberg  was  heard 
crying,  "  No  priest  can  save  you  I  —  no  masses  or  indul- 
gences can  help  you  I  But  God  has  saved  you!  He  him- 
self, and  no  mediatory  saints,  no  holy  mother  of  God  even, 
but  God  himself,  the  divine  Son,  has  redeemed  you!"  — 
this,  which  in  its  fresh  and  living  utterance  was  no  mere 
dogma,  —  no  dry  didactic,  which  it  so  soon  became,  —  but 
an  articulate  voice  of  "  Help  from  Heaven,"  seized  the 
great  heart  of  the  German  people,  and  mightily  swayed  it. 
Brushing  hj  the  faltering  and  unsteady  steps  of  Human- 
ism, this  faith  in  a  divine  righteousness  near  to  every  soul, 
made  for  itself  a  living  way  among  the  nations,  and  carried 
with  it,  wherever  it  went,  liberty  and  strength.  It  was 
this,  and  no  mere  destructive  zeal,  nor  yet  polemical  logic, 
that  "  shook  the  ancient  cathedrals  to  their  inmost  shrines," 
and  spread  a  moral  renovation  throughout  Europe. 

The  spiritual  principle  is  eternally  divine  and  powerful. 
It  is  a  very  different  thing  when  we  turn  to  contemplate 
the  dogmatic  statements  of  Luther.  So  soon  as  Luther 
began  to  evolve  his  principle,  and  coin  its  living  heart  once 
more  into  dogma,  he  showed  that  he  had  not  risen  above 
the  scholastic  spirit  which  he  aimed  to  destroy.  It  was 
truly  impossible  that  he  could  do  so.     Not  even  the  mas- 


bb  LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

sive  energy  of  Luther  could  pierce  through  those  intel- 
lectual influences  which  had  descended  as  a  hoary  heritage 
of  ages  to  the  sixteenth  century.  Like  the  mists  cleared 
away  by  the  morning  sun,  they  had  retired  before  th* fresh 
outburst  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  as  the  preaching  of 
Luther  kindled  by  its  stirring  words  many  lowly  hearts 
looking  upwards ;  but  when  the  first  glow  of  the  warming 
sun  had  spent  itself,  the  mists,  which  had  only  retreated,  and 
not  disappeared,  were  seen  creeping  backward,  and  although 
no  longer  obscuring,  yet  spreading  confusion  and  dimness 
over  the  illumined  scene.  It  was  not  enough  for  Luther 
to  proclaim  a  free  righteousness  in  Christ  for  all,  but  he 
must,  as  a  theologian,  lay  down  his  distinctions,  and  enter 
into  minute  and  arbitrary  definitions  of  the  divine  fact  of 
: .  righteousness.  Faith  is  not  enough,  but  he  further  inclines 
I  \o  the  assurance  of  faith,  with  its  tendency  to  a  rapid 
I  translation  into  mere  barren  self-confidence.  Undenia]:)ly, 
there  grew  up  in  his  mind  a  reaction  against  the  popish 
tenet  of  works,  so  extreme  as  frequently  to  leave  him,  in 
his  doctrinal  statements,  on  the  verge  of  Antinomianism. 
The  harmony  of  spiritual  trutli  is  broken  up,  and  one  side 
of  it  —  the  opposite  to  that  in  which,  as  a  monk,  he  had 
been  educated  —  seized  with  such  force  and  crudeness  as 
seems  to  turn  a  free  salvation  scarcely  less  into  a  mechan- 
ism tlian  the  old  doctrine  of  works.  It  is  in  vain  for  the 
most  ardent  admirers  of  Luther  to  deny  this  tendency  to 
an  unmoral  view  of  the  doctrine  of  grace  in  many  of  his 
expressions,  although  it  is  easy  enough  for  them  to  prove 
against  calumnious  criticism,  that  this  was  not  the  sub- 
stance, but  the  mere  reactionary  shadow  of  his  doctrine, 
thrown  over  it  by  those  very  mists  of  scholasticism  in 
which  his  intellectual  life  had  been  nursed. 

The  Fveformation,  in  its  theology,  did  not  and  could  not 


LUTHER.  89 

escape  the  deteriorating  influences  of  the  scholastic  spirit ; 
for  that  spirit  survived  it,  and  lived  on  in  strength,  although 
in  a  modified  form,  throughout  the  seventeenth  century. 
In  one  important  particular,  indeed,  the  Scholastic  and 
Protestant  systems  of  theology  entirely  differed,  —  the 
latter  began  their  systematizing  from  the  very  opposite 
extreme  to  that  of  the  former  —  from  the  divine,  and  not 
from  the  human  side  of  redemption  —  from  God,  and  not 
from  man.  And  this  is  a  difference  on  the  side  of  truth 
by  no  means  to  be  overlooked.  Still  the  spirit  is  the 
same,  —  the  spirit  which  does  not  hesitate  to  break  up  the 
divine  unity  of  the  truth  in  Scripture  into  its  own  logical 
shreds  and  patches ;  which  tries  to  discriminate  what  in 
its  moral  essence  is  inscrutable,  and  to  trace  in  distinct  f 
dogmatic  moulds  the  operation  of  the  divine  and  human? 
wills  in  salvation,  —  while  the  very  condition  of  all  salva-| 
tion  is  the  eternal  mystery  of  their  union  in  an  act  of  j 
mutual  and  inexpressible  love.  This  spirit  of  ultra-defini-\ 
tion  —  of  essential  rationalism  —  was  the  corrupting  inher- 
itance of  the  new  from  the  old  theology ;  and  it  is  difficult 
to  say,  all  things  considered,  as  we  trace  the  melancholy 
history  of  Protestant  dogmas,  whether  its  fruits  have  been 
worse  in  the  latter  or  in  the  former  instance.  The  mists, 
it  is  true,  have  never  again  so  utterly  obscured  the  truth ; 
but  their  dimness,  covering  a  fairer  light,  almost  inspires 
the  religious  heart  with  a  deeper  sadness. 

But  there  is  a  further  principle  which  claims  our  consid- 
eration in  connection  with  the  Lutheran  Reformation  —  a 
principle,  indeed,  which  was  by  no  means  consistently 
expressed,  but  which  still  had  its  imperfect  birth  then. 
It  was  very  far  from  Luther's  intention,  even  after  he  had 
entered  on  his  contest  with  the  Church  of  Rome,  to  assert 
what  has  been  called  the  right  of  jy^ivate  judgment  in  mat- 

8* 


90     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

ters  of  religion.  Even  in  the  end  he  did  not  fully  under- 
stand or  admit  the  validity  of  this  |)rinciple ;  and  yet,  so 
far,  there  was  no  other  resting-ground  for  him.  He  was 
driven  to  claim  for  himself  freedom  of  opinion  in  the  light 
of  Scripture,  as  the  only  position  on  which,  with  any  con- 
sistency, he  could  stand.  Accordingly,  when  pressed  to 
retract  his  views  at  Worms,  when  it  was  clearly  made 
manifest  that  authority  —  Catholic  and  Imperial  —  was 
against  him,  he  boldly  took  his  ground  here,  in  inagnani- 
n)ous  and  always  memorable  words.  For  himself,  he  said, 
"  Unless  I  be  convinced  by  Scripture  or  by  reason,  I  can 
and  will  retracjt  nothing;  for  to  act  against  my  conscience 
is  neither  safe  nor  honest.  Here  I  stand."  On  Scripture ' 
and  on  reason  he  based  his  convictions,  and  would  recog- 
nize the  right  of  no  mere  external  authority  to  control  him. 
Not  what  the  Emperor  said,  not  what  the  Doctors  said, 
not  what  the  Church  said,  —  but  only  what  his  own  con- 
science owned  to  be  true  in  the  light  of  the  Scripture, 
would  he  acknowledge  to  be  the  truth.  Nothing  else 
could  move  him  —  so  help  him  God!  It  is  impossible  to 
conceive  a  more  unqualified  assertion  of  the  right  of  pri- 
vate judgment —  of  the  indefeasible  privilege  of  the  indi- 
vidual reason  and  conscience  to  know  and  judge  the  truth 
for  itself;  and  the  Reformation  would  have  had  no  rational 
or  consistent  basis  if  it  had  not  taken  up  this  —  if,  for 
himself  at  least,  Luther  had  not  felt  the  force  and  sole 
conclusiveness  of  such  a  position. 

It  is  too  well  known,  however,  that  neither  he  nor  any  of 
his  feliow-reformers  recognized  the  full  meaning  and  bear- 
ing of  this  position.  They  knew  what  their  own  neces- 
sities demanded ;  but  that  was  all.  They  raised  the  ensign 
of  a  free  Bible  in  the  face  of  Home,  but  they  s['eedily 
refused  to  allow  others  to  fisrht  under  this  banner  as  well 


LUTHER.  91 

as  themselves.  What  Luther  claimed  for  himself  against 
Catholic  authority,  he  refused  to  Carlstadt,  and  refused  to 
Zwingie,  in  favor  of  their  more  liberal  doctrinal  views. 
He  failed  to  see  that  their  position  was  exactly  his  own, 
with  a  difference  of  result,  —  which,  indeed,  was  all  the 
difference  in  the  w^orld  to  him.  Against  them  he  appealed, 
not  merely  to  Scripture,  but  to  his  own  obstinate  views  of 
certain  texts  of  Scripture ;  and  gradually  he  erected  a  new 
authority,  which  to  him,  and  still  more  to  his  followers, 
became  absolute  as  Scripture  itself.  Scripture,  as  a  Avit- 
ness,  disappeared  behind  the  Augsburg  Confession  as  a 
standard ;  and  so  it  happened,  more  or  less,  with  all  the 
reformers.  They  were  consistent  in  displacing  the  Church 
of  Rome  from  its  position  of  assumed  authority  over  the 
•conscience,  but  they  were  equally  consistent,  all  of  them, 
in  raising  a  dogmatic  authority  in  its  stead.  In  favor  of 
their  own  views,  they  asserted  the  right  of  the  private 
judgment  to  interpret  and  decide  the  meaning  of  Scripture, 
but  they  had  nevertheless  no  idea  of  a  really  free  interpre- 
tation of  Scrij)ture.  Their  orthodoxy  everywhere  appealed 
to  Scripture,  but  it  rested,  in  reality,  upon  an  Augustinian 
commentary  of  Scripture.  They  displaced  the  medieval 
schoolmen,  but  only  to  elevate  Augustine  ;  and,  having 
done  this,  they  had  no  conception  of  any  limits  attaching 
to  this  new  tribunal  of  heresy.  Freedom  of  opinion,  in 
the  modern  sense,  was  utterly  unknown  to  them.  There 
was  not  merely  an  absolute  truth  in  Scripture,  but  they 
had  settled,  by  the  help  of  Augustine,  what  this  truth 
was ;  and  any  variations  from  this  standard  were  not  to 
be  tolerated.  The  idea  of  a  free  faith  holding  to  very 
different  dogmatic  views,  and  yet  equally  Cliristian,  —  the 
idea  of  spiritual  life  and  goodness  apart  from  theoretical 
orthodoxy,  —  had  not  dawned  in  the   sixteenth  century, 


92     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

nor  long  afterwards.  Heresy  was  not  a  mere  divergence 
of  intellectual  apprehension,  but  a  moral  obliquity, — a 
statutory  offence,  —  to  be  punished  by  the  magistrate,  to 
be  expiated  by  death.  It  is  the  strangest  and  most  sadden- 
ing of  all  spectacles  to  contemplate  the  slow  and  painful 
process  by  Avhicli  the  human  mind  has  emancipated  itself 
from  the  dark  delusion  that  intellectual  error  is  a  subject 
of  moral  offence  and  punishment,  —  as  if  even  the  highest 
expressions  of  the  most  enlightened  dogmatism  were  or 
could  be  anything  more  than  the  mere  gropings  after  God's 
immeasurable  truth,  the  mere  pebbles  by  the  shore  of 
the  unnavigable  sea,  the  mere  star-dust  in  the  boundless 
heaven,  pointing  to  a  light  inaccessible  and  full  of  glory, 
which  no  man  hath  seen,  neither  indeed  can  see.  It 
required  the  lapse  of  many  years  to  make  men  begin  to 
feel  —  and  it  may  still  require  the  lapse  of  many  more  to 
make  them  fully  feel  —  that  they  cannot  absolutely  fix  in 
their  feeble  symbols  the  truth  of  God,  —  that  it  is  ever 
bursting  with  its  own  free  might  the  old  bottles  in  which 
they  would  contain  it;  and  that,  consequently,  according 
to  that  very  law  of  progress  by  which  all  things  live,  it  is 
impossible  to  bind  the  conscience  by  any  bonds  but  those 
of  God's  own  wisdom  (Word)  in  Scripture,  —  a  spiritual 
authority  addressing  a  spiritual  subject,  —  a  teacher,  not  of 
"  the  letter  which  killeth,  but  of  the  Spirit  which  giveth 
life." 


II. 


CALYIN. 


CALVIN. 


There  were  almost  from  the  beginning  two  very  differ- 
ent classes  of  men  engaged  in  the  Reformation,  —  the  men 
of  movement  and  of  action,  and  the  men  of  organization 
and  of  policy.  The  former  were,  in  the  most  radical  sense, 
reformers,  —  those  Avho  broke  through  the  old  bonds  of 
superstition,  and,  by  a  process  of  disturbance  and  disinte- 
gration, prepared  the  way  for  a  new  creative  epoch  in  the 
relations  of  human  society  and  the  forms  of  religious  life ; 
the  latter  were  characteristically  theologians  and  ecclesi- 
astics, as  well  as  reformers,  —  those  who,  having  accepted 
the  principles  of  the  reformed  movement,  sought  to  mould 
them  into  new  expressions  of  Christian  thought  and  life. 
The  one  were  heroes  heading  a  great  insurrection  in  human 
history,  which  had  not  yet  taken  to  itself  a  well-defined 
shape,  but  was  moving  onwards,  rather  under  the  sway  of 
an  irresistible  spiritnal  impulse  than  of  a  clear  regulative 
idea ;  the  latter  were  thinkers  and  legislators,  whose  aim  it 
was  to  impress  again  a  dogmatic  and  constitutional  char- 
acter upon  the  disturbing  elements  that  had  been  set  in 
motion.  As  Luther  is  the  greatest  of  the  first  class,  so 
Calvin  is,  beyond  all  comparison-,  the  greatest  of  the  second 
class.  In  each  case,  however,  there  is  a  group  of  con> 
trasted  characters  around  the  central  figure  —  Melancthon, 
Camerarius,  and  others,  around  Luther;  and  Lefevre  and 
Farel  around  Calvin. 


96     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

When  we  turn  our  gaze  from  Germany  to  France,  in 
the  begmnmg  of  the  sixteenth  century,  we  find  both  of 
these  last  men  actively  at  work  in  the  cause  of  religious 
reform.  Farel,  particularly,  is  seen  laboring  with  fiery 
zeal,  and  a  self-sacrificing  and  heroic  temper.  Like  the 
German  reformer,  the  enthusiastic  priest  of  Dauphiny  only 
reached  the  truth  after  severe  spiritual  struggles,  in  the 
course  of  which  he,  too,  had  exhausted  almost  everj 
device  of  sacerdotalism,  with  a  determined  self-devotion. 
With  a  powerful  and  restless  energy,  he  gave  himself,  so 
soon  as  his  own  heart  was  quickened,  to  the  kindling  of  a 
new  religious  spirit  wherever  he  travelled  —  in  Dauphiny, 
in  Basle,  in  Geneva.  He  is  beyond  doubt  the  most  notable 
of  the  early  reformers  of  France ;  and  even  before  Luther, 
in  his  ilimous  theses,  had  sounded  that  note  of  war  which 
soon  awakened  all  Germany,  and  propagated  itself  to 
France  and  England,  Farel  had  in  Paris  raised  his  voice 
against  the  papal  authority,  and  entered  upon  his  reforming 
mission.  He  wins  our  sympathy,  too,  from  something  of 
the  same  frank,  bold,  and  careless  character  which  distin- 
guishes the  great  German,  bearing  on  his  front,  like  him, 
the  impress  of  an  ever-fresh  enthusiasm,  and  the  scars  of 
many  a  hard  conflict  —  all,  however,  at  a  great  distance 
from  the  hero  of  Worms.  There  was  in  all  Farel' s  fiery 
earnestness  too  little  comprehension  and  firm  persistence 
to  have  enabled  him  to  carry  out,  in  any  great  and  endur- 
ing shape,  the  impulse  which  he  himself  communicated. 
It  was  necessary  that  some  master-mind  should  arise 
within  the  sphere  of  the  (5allic  reform  movement,  in  order 
to  consolidate  it  into  a  distinctive  spiritual  power,  and  to 
impart  to  it  a  lasting  social  result. 

Such  a  master-mind  was  Calvin,  who  represents  to  us 
most  strikingly  the  converging  influences  of  the  Swiss  and 


CALVIN.  97 

the  French  Reformations.  Both  may  be  fairly  regarded  as 
Slimmed  np  in  him,  in  so  far  as  they  enunciated  principles 
and  entered  as  a  controlling  influence  into  the  history  of 
the  world.  In  this  sense,  he  is  the  most  comprehensive 
representative  of  each  and  of  both  together;  although  he 
must  yield  the  palm  of  priority  and  of  active  heroism,  in 
the  one  case  to  Zwingle,  and  in  the  other  case  to  Farel. 
Into  their  labors  he  entered  in  a  somewhat  similar  way  as 
Melancthon  entered  into  the  labors  of  Luther ;  and  so  far 
he  takes  his  place  beside  Melancthon  in  the  second  class 
of  reformers.  His  theological  and  didactic  qualities  and 
personal  sympathies,  moreover,  ally  him  Avith  the  friend 
and  supporter  of  Luther,  rather  than  with  Luther  himself. 
But  there  are  other  and  most  important  respects  in  which, 
as  we  shall  see,  he  occupies  a  position  not  only  above 
Melancthon,  but  above  Luther  —  a  position  singular  in 
moral  grandeur,  and  in  the  vigorous  and  widely-extending 
influence  which  spread  around  from  it. 

Tlie  life  of  Calvin,  in  contrast  with  that  of  the  German 
reformer,  presents  but  a  few  dramatic  aspects.  In  merely 
biographic  interest,  it  is  not  nearly  so  rich,  although  there 
is  a  great  consistency  and  purpose  in  its  several  parts, 
which  invest  it  with  a  powerful  charm  to  some  minds.^    It 

i  Calvin  has  been  hitherto  unfortunate  in  biographers,  —  there  not  being 
a  single  life  of  him,  Avith  which  we  are  acquainted,  at  once  adequate  in  its 
comprehension  of  the  man  and  his  work,  fair  and  critical  in  its  estimate,  and 
interesting  in  its  composition.  The  work  of  Dyer,  published  in  this  country- 
some  j^ars  ago,  is  sufficiently  readable  and  well  composed,  but  without  the 
pretension  of  grasping  the  whole  subject,  and  judging  it  from  any  compre- 
hensive point  of  view.  The  w^ork  of  Henry,  in  three  massive  German  vol- 
umes, and  translated,  without  the  appendices,  into  two  large  English  octavos 
by  Dr.  Stebbing,  is,  either  in  German  or  in  Enghsh,  a  somewhat  unreadable 
book,  with  certain  glimpses  of  critical  insight  here  and  there,  but  without 
coherence  or  biographical  finish.  It  is,  however,  the  most  adequate,  as  a 
whole,  —  being  animated  by  a  higher,  although,  in  an  opposite  direction, 

9 


98     LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

may  be  conveniently  divided,  for  our  purpose,  into  three 
periods  of  unequal  duration:  first,  from  his  birth,  in  1509, 
to  his  completion  of  the  Institutes  in  their  first  known 
shape,  in  1536.  This,  as  with  the  corresponding  period  in 
Luther's  life,  may  be  called  the  period  of  his  education  ; 
second,  from  his  first  appearance  in  Geneva,  in  the  same 
year,  1536,  on  through  his  expulsion  and  residence  at 
Strasburg,  to  September  1541,  when  he  reentered  and 
finally  settled  in  Geneva ;  third,  from  this  latter  date  to 
his  death  in  1564.  We  can  only  insert,  in  each  of  these 
epochs,  as  we  rapidly  glance  through  them,  such  facts  as 
are  absolutely  necessary  to  start  before  us  some  picture  of 
the  man,  and  to  enable  us  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of 
the  great  aims  for  which  he  lived,  and  towards  which  he 
wrought. 

Calvin  was  born  at  Noyon,  in  Picardy,  on  the  10th  of 
July,  1509;  he  was  thus  twenty-six  years  the  junior  of 
Luther.  His  father,  Gerard  Cauvin,  or  Calvin,  was  Pro- 
cureur-Fiscal  of  the  district  of  Noyon,  and  Secretary  of 
the  Diocese.  He  was  a  man  of  ability,  distinguished  by 
success  in  his  profession,  and  the  favor  and  friendship  of 
the  influential  families  in  his  neighborhood.^  His  mother, 
Jane  Lefranc,  was  a  native  of  Cambray,  and  is  reported 

scarcely  a  fairer  spirit  than  that  of  Dyer,  and  embodying,  as  it  does,  the 
main  contents  of  the  reformer's  correspondence,  —  which  happily  remain  to 
the  student,  the  most  instructive  and  complete  sources  of  his  history.  Two 
volumes  of  Bonnet's  complete  edition  of  the  correspondence,  containing  the 
French  letters,  have  already  appeared.  Two  volumes,  containing  ft  selec- 
tion both  from  the  French  and  Latin  letters,  translated  into  English,  have 
been  published  by  IMr.  Constable,  of  Edinburgh.  Besides  a  full  edition  of  the 
letters,  Bonnet  has  pi'omised  Une  etude  sur  Calvin,  formant  une  hisioire  dii 
Reformaieur  d'apres  les  documents  originaux  et  authentiques,  which,  it  is  to  be 
hoped,  may  at  length  form  an  adequate  historical  portrait  of  the  reformer. 

1  "Erat  is   Gerardus,"  says  Beza,  "non  pauci  judicii  et  consilii  homo, 
ideoque  nobilibus  ejus  plerisque  carus," — Calv.  Vita,  Hanovise,  1597. 


CALVIN.  99 

to  have  been  beautiful,  and  of  a  strongly  religious  spirit. 
Calvin  was  one  of  six  children,  four  sons  and  two  daugh- 
ters. One  of  his  sisters,  Mary,  followed  his  faith  and 
fortunes,  and  is  occasionally  mentioned  in  his  letters.  Of 
his  brothers,  the  eldest  was  an  ecclesiastic,  the  fourth  died 
young,  and  the  third,  also  bred  an  ecclesiastic,  ultimately 
joined  the  reformer  in  Geneva.  The  position  of  the 
father  is  the  natural  explanation  of  so  many  of  his  sons 
entering  into  the  church.  While  our  reformer  was  still 
only  twelve  years  of  age,  his  father  procured  for  him  a 
chaplaincy  in  the  cathedral  church  of  Noyon,  as  a  means 
of  support  during  his  education,  —  a  practice  not  uncommon 
in  the  GalUcan,  as  in  all  the  other  churches  of  the  time. 

Of  Calvin's  youth  and  earlier  education  we  have  but 
few  particulars.  We  get  no  hearty  glimpses  of  his  home 
and  school-days,  as  in  the  case  of  Luther.  We  only  know 
that,  in  contrast  with  the  rough  and  picturesque  boyhood 
of  the  German,  he  was  nurtured  tenderly,  and  even  in  an 
aristocratic  atmosphere.  The  noble  family  of  Mommor, 
in  the  neighborhood,  to  some  extent  adopted  the  boy,  and 
his  studies  were  pursued  in  conjunction  with  those  of  the 
young  members  of  this  family.  Beza  narrates  his  pre- 
cocity of  mental  power,  and  the  grave  severity  of  his 
manners,  even  at  this  early  age.  His  companions,  it  is 
said,  surnamed  him  the  "  Accusative."  ^  Having  received 
the  rudiments  of  his  education  in  his  native  town,  he 
went,  in  his  fourteenth  year,  to  Paris,  still  in  the  company 
of  the  children  of  the  Mommor  family.  There  he  was 
entered  as  a  pupil  in  the  College  de  la  Marche,  under  the 
regency  of  Mathurin  Cordier,  —  a  name  still  familiar  to 
boys  entering  upon  their  Latin  studies,  imder  its  classical 

1  This  is  mentioned  by  d'Aubigne,  vol.  iii.  p.  631,  upon  the  evidence  of 
Levasseur,  a  canon  of  Noyon. 


100    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

form  of  Corderius.  It  was  under  this  distinguished  master 
that  Calvin  laid  the  foundation  of  his  own  wonderful 
mastery  of  the  Latin  language.  From  the  College  de  la 
Marche  he  passed  to  the  College  Montagu,  where  he  was 
initiated  into  the  scholastic  philosophy,  under  the  guidance 
of  a  learned  Spaniard.  In  his  eighteenth  year  he  was 
appointed  to  the  living  of  Marteville,  and  this,  too,  while 
he  had  only  as  yet  received  the  tonsure,  and  was  not 
admitted  to  holy  orders.^ 

About  this  time  his  professional  views  underwent  a 
change.  The  law  appeared  to  his  father,  somewhat  as  to 
Luther's,  to  offer  a  more  tempting  worldly  prospect  than 
the  church ;  ^  and  he  resolved,  accordingly,  to  turn  the 
studies  of  his  son  in  the  direction  of  the  former  profession. 
He  sent  him,  with  this  view,  to  the  university  of  Orleans, 
t*lien  adorned  by  Pierre  de  I'Etoile,  one  of  the  most  famous 
jurists  of  his  day,  and  afterwards  President  of  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris,  In  taking  this  step,  however,  Calvin  did 
not  resign  his  church  living ;  and  it  appears  to  have  been 
even  after  this,  that,  by  the  kind  patronage  of  a  member 
of  the  same  family  who  had  hitherto  so  befriended  him, 
he  effected  the  exchange  of  the  living  of  Marteville  for 
that  of  Pont  I'Eveque,  where  he  is  said  occasionally  to 
have  preached.  It  is  a  singular  enough  picture  of  the 
times,  which  is  presented  to  us  by  this  condtict,  both  of 
Calvin  and  his  father.  His  justification  in  the  case,  if  any 
such  be  needed,  considering  his  youth,  is  the  prevalence 
of  the  practice  in  an  age  in  which  the  ecclesiastical  office 
had  become,  too  frequently,  a  mere  material  convenience, 
or  transmitted  guild. 

»  He  never  seems  to  have  been  ordained  in  the  Romish  Church,  notwith- 
standing the  several  ecclesiastical  positions  he  held.  — Beza,  Calv.  Vita. 
2  Beza. 


CALVIN.  101 

Of  his  life  at  Orleans,  we  know  something  more  than 
of  his  previous  life  at  Noyon  or  Paris,  although  it  is  still 
only  very  vague  glimpses  we  get.  Beza  has  told  us,  on 
the  authority  of  souie  of  Calvin's  fellow-students,  that  his 
life  was  here  marked  by  a  rigorous  temperance  and  devo- 
tion to  study ;  that,  after  supping  moderately,  he  would 
spend  half  the  night  in  study,  and  devote  the  morning  to 
meditation  on  what  he  had  acquired,  —  thus  laying  the 
foundation  of  his  solid  learning,  but,  at  the  same  time,  of 
his  future  ill  health.  His  talents  were  already  so  generally 
recognized,  that,  in  the  absence  of  some  of  the  professors, 
he  was  called  upon  to  do  their  duty.  It  was  here  that,  for 
the  first  time,  he  became  acquainted  with  the  Scriptures, 
in  the  translation  of  a  relative  of  his  own,  Pierre  Robert 
Olivetan.  Here,  also,  he  formed  the  friendship  of  two 
young  men,  Francis  Daniel,  an  advocate,  and  Nicholas  du 
Chemin,  a  schoolmaster,  who  seem  already  to  have  im- 
bibed the  reformed  opinions.  His  earliest  extant  letter,  in 
which  he  details  the  illness  and  approaching  death  of  his 
father,  and  which  bears  the  date  of  14th  May,  1528,  is 
addressed  to  the  latter  of  these  friends ;  and  a  brief  series 
of  letters,  on  to  the  year  1536,  is  addressed  to  the  former. 
We  cannot  say,  as  yet,  that  Calvin's  traditionary  opinions 
were  unfixed,  still  less  that  he  had  embraced,  with  any 
decision,  the  Protestant  views  which  were  spreading 
everywhere.  Beyond  doubt,  however,  the  first  impulse 
to  the  new  faith,  which  was  soon  to  seize  him,  and  mould 
his  whole  sentiments,  was  imparted  at  Orleans,  under 
the  influences  and  amid  the  companionships  we  have 
mentioned. 

From  Orleans  he  went,  still  in  prosecution  of  his  legal 
studies,  to  Bourges,  where,  for  the  first  time,  he  acquired 
the  knowledge  of  Greek,  under  the  tuition  of  a  learned 

9* 


102         LEADERS     OF     THE    REFORMATION. 

German,  Melchior  "VVolmar,  to  whom  he  has  recorded  his 
obhgations.^  The  spiritual  impulse  received  at  Orleans 
seems  to  have  been  confirmed  and  promoted  by  this  dis- 
tinguished teacher,  to  whose  piety  and  admirable  abilities 
Beza,  also  one  of  his  pupils,  bears  tribute.  His  convic- 
tions became  deepened  and  settled  to  such  a  degree  that 
he  now  began  openly  to  preach  the  reformed  doctrines. 
Slowly,  but  surely,  he  passed  over  to  the  Protestant  ranks, 
in  a  manner  entirely  contrasted  with  that  of  Luther,  even 
as  his  mind  and  character  Avere  so  wholly  different.  We 
trace  no  struggling  steps  of  dogmatic  conviction  —  no 
profound  spiritual  agitations  —  no  crisis,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  German  reformer.  We  only  learn  that,  from  being  an 
apparently  satisfied  and  devoted  adherent  of  popery,  he 
adopted,  with  a  quiet,  but  steady  and  zealous  faithfulness, 
the  new  opinions.  He  himself,  indeed,  in  his  preface, 
when  commenting  on  tlie  Psalms,  speaks  of  his  conversion 
being  a  sudden  one;  and,  to  his  own  reflection  afterwards, 
it  may  have  seemed  that  the  clear  light  began  to  dawn 
upon  him  all  at  once ;  but  the  facts  of  his  fife  seem  rather 
to  show  it  in  the  light  in  which  we  have  presented  it,  as 
a  gradual  and  consistent  growth  under  the  influences 
which  surrounded  him,  first  at  Orleans,  and  then  at 
Bourges. 

In  accordance  with  this  new  growth  of  spiritual  con- 
viction, he  returned  to  the  study  of  theology,  or  rather 
took  it  up,  for  the  first  time,  with  real  earnestness.  Not 
only  so,  but  he  soon  became  an  instmctor  and  authority 
in  the  reformed  doctrine.  "  Not  a  year  had  passed  over," 
he  says,  in  the  same  preface  to  the  Psalms,  "when  all 
those  who  had  any  desire  for  pure  learning  came  to  me, 

^  Preface  to  Commentary  on  Second  Epistle  to  Corinthians. 


CALVIN.  103 

inexperienced  as  I  was,  to  gain  information.  I  was  natu- 
rally bashful,  and  loved  leisure  and  privacy;  hence  I 
sought  retirement ;  but  even  my  solitary  place  became 
like   a  public  school." 

He  proceeded  to  Paris  (1533),  which  already,  under  the 
teachings  of  Lefevre  and  Farel,  and  the  influence  of  the 
Queen  of  Navarre,  the  sister  of  Francis  I.,  had  become  a 
centre  of  the  reformed  faith.  The  university  had  become 
s<:rongly  infected  with  the  "pure  learning."  There  was 
great  excitement  and  rising  discontent  with  the  old  reli- 
gion, at  once,  in  the  court,  among  the  bishops/  and  even 
in  the  Sorbonne.  The  presence  of  Calvin,  whose  great 
powers  had  already  made  him  extensively  known,^  oper- 
ated vigorously  to  increase  this  excitement.  One  Nicolas 
Cop,  a  physician,  happened  to  be  rector,  and  in  this 
capacity  had  to  deliver  a  discourse  on  the  festival  of  All 
Saints,  for  the  composition  of  which  he  is  said  to  have 
been  indebted  to  Calvin.  Instead  of  the  usual  traditionary 
orthodoxy  on  such  an  occasion,  the  discourse  boldly  en- 
tered upon  the  subject  of  religion,  and  advocated  the 
doctrine  of  justification  by  faith.  The  attack  was  too 
obvious  to  pass  unnoticed ;  the  ancient  spirit  of  the  Sor- 
boime  revived,  and  Cop  was  summoned  to  answer  for  the 
heresy.  Aware  of  his  peril,  he  fled  to  Basle,  and  Calvin, 
whose  share  in  the  ofience  became  speedily  known,  also 
fled.  There  are  various  stories  as  to  his  flight  —  as,  for 
example,  that  he  was  let  down  from  his  window  by  means 
of  his  sheets,  and  escaped  in  the  habit  of  a  vine-dresser, 

1  See  D'Aubigiie's  interesting  narrative  of  the  struggles,  aims,  and  fall  of 
Bri9onnet,  bishop  of  Meaux,  vol.  iii. 

2  As  an  evidence  of  the  fame  for  abilities  and  learning  he  had  already  dis- 
covered, it  deserves  to  be  mentioned  that  he  was  one  of  the  Continental 
divines  consulted  about  Henry  VIII.'s  divorce. 


104         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

an  acquaintance,  to  whose  house  he  had  repaired.  Beza 
simply  states  that  when  the  officers  went  to  seize  him,  he 
was  not  to  be  found,^  and  that  the  Queen  of  Navarre 
subsequently  interposed  in  his  behalf. 

Repairing  to  Noyon  after  this  event,  he  is  now  said  to 
have  resigned  his  ecclesiastical  offices ;  and  henceforth, 
for  a  year  or  two,  he  seems  to  have  led  a  wandering  hfe. 
We  find  him  first  at  Saintonge,  then  at  Nerac,  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  where,  for  the  first  time, 
he  made  the  personal  acquaintance  of  Lefevre,  who  is 
said  to  have  recognized  in  the  pale  young  student  the 
future  apostle  of  the  Reformation  in  France.  Subse- 
quently, he  spent  some  time  in  retirement,  at  Angou-eme, 
with  his  friend,  Louis  Tillet;  his  letters  to  whom,  after- 
wards, when  Tillet  felt  himself  impelled  to  rejoin  the 
Roman  Church,  are  among  the  most  interesting  of  his 
early  correspondence,  marked  as  they  are  by  an  unusual 
freedom  and  afiectionateness  of  feeling.  It  was  during 
this  retirement  that  he  is  supposed  to  have  made  the  first 
sketch  of  his  Institutes  of  tJie  Christian  Rellgioji.  Again, 
in  1533,  we  find  him,  for  a  brief  Avhile,  at  Paris,  expecting 
strangely  a  meeting  with  Servetus,  wbo  had  expressed  a 
desire  to  see  and  confer  with  him.  He  did  not,  however, 
keep  his  appointment.  Not  yet  were  they  destined  to 
meet  —  the  stern  reformer  and  the  enthusiastic  speculator  I 
Had  they  done  so  now,  in  the  warmth  of  comparative 
youth,  and  Avhile  the  dogmatism  of  the  one  and. the  other 
was  as  yet  unhardened,  we  may  please  ourselves  with  the 
imagination  that  their  later  and  darker  meeting  might 
have  been  avoided,  and  a  great  crime  have  been  spared  to 
the  progress  of  the  Reformation. 

'  "  Quo  forte  domi  non  reperto."— Crtfo.  Vita,  etc. 


CALVIN.  105 

Persecution  now  raged  fiercely  against  the  adherents  of 
the  Kefonnation  in  France.  The  agitation  of  the  Ana- 
baptist insurrection  in  Germany  had  spread  across  the 
Rhine,  and  even  into  England.  There  was  alarm  and 
excitement  everywhere.  All  reformers  were  confounded 
as  disturbers  of  social  order.  Calvin  felt  that  he  was  no 
longer  safe  in  Paris,  nor  even  in  France,  and  he  prepared 
to  take  refuge  at  Basle.  Previously,  however,  he  pub- 
lished, at  Orleans,  a  treatise  against  one  of  the  peculiar 
tenets  of  the  Anabaptists,  as  to  the  sleep  of  the  soul, 
under  the  title  of  PsycJiojmnnychia.  This  was  his  second 
literary  labor.  Two  years  before,  he  had  first  appeared 
as  an  author,  in  a  commentary  on  Seneca's  treatise  De 
dementia.  What  is  chiefly  remarkable  about  these  works, 
is  their  scholarly  and  intellectual  character.  They  are  — 
even  the  treatise  against  the  Anabaptists  —  more  like  the 
exercitations  of  a  student,  than  the  productions  of  a  mind 
strongly  moved  by  religious,  reforming  zeal. 

Arrived  at  Basle  in  1535,  the  spirit  of  the  reformer  may 
be  said  to  have  awakened  in  him,  for  the  first  time,  in  full 
strength.  The  famous  preface  to  the  Institutes,  it  is 
certain,  was  written  here  in  this  year.  It  bears  the  date 
of  Basle,  August  1,  1535.  The  concentrated  vigor  of  this 
address  —  its  intensity  of  feeling,  rising  into  indignant 
remonstrance,  and,  at  times,  a  pathetic  and  powerful  elo- 
quence—  make  it  one  of  the  most  memorable  documents 
in  connection  with  the  Reformation.  It  shows  the  vehe- 
ment struggle  that  there  was  in  Calvin's  mind,  no  less 
than  in  Luther's,  to  exonerate  the  religious  movement 
from  the  social  excesses  that  had  sprung  up  in  its  progress 
—  to  prove  that  the  latter  had,  in  reahty,  no  connection 
with  the  former,  whose  legitimate  tendency  was  every- 
where to  strengthen  the  moral  stabihty  of  society,  and  to 


106         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

increase  dutifulness  and  loyalty  in  subjects.  It  is,  through- 
oiit,  a  noble  defence  of  the  righteous  character  of  the 
reformed  doctrines,  and  their  support  alike  in  Scripture 
and  in  history.  The  energetic  decisiveness  and  moral 
zeal  of  the  future  teacher  and  legislator  of  Geneva,  speak 
in  every  page  of  it. 

A  dispute  exists  as  to  whether  there  was  any  cor- 
responding edition  of  the  Institutes  in  1535.  On  the  one 
hand,  the  presumption  is  strong  that  there  must  have  been 
such  an  edition,  and  Beza  distinctly  states  that  they  first 
appeared  in  that  year  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  all  research 
has  failed  to  discover  any  edition  before  1536.  Dr.  Henry's 
conjecture  is,  that  the  edition  of  both  the  work  and  pref- 
ace, in  the  earlier  year,  was  in  French ;  but  this,  again,  is 
contradicted  by  certain  expressions,  in  a  letter  of  Calvin 
to  Francis  Daniel,  of  date  15th  October,  1536,  which  lead 
us  to  suppose  that  he  was  then  busy,  for  the  first  time, 
with  the  French  version  of  his  work.  The  dispute  is  not 
really  important,  save  in  a  bibliographical  point  of  view. 
At  this  period  —  whether  in  1535,  or  the  beginning  of  1536 
—  Calvin  completed,  at  Basle,  the  first  sketch  of  his  great 
dogmatic  scheme  —  a  mere  sketch,  indeed,  of  the  future 
complete  work.  Now,  before  he  had  entered  at  all  upon 
his  special  career  as  a  reformer,  the  great  lines  of  thought 
were  laid  down,  and  the  principles,  both  dogmatical  and 
ecclesiastica],  enunciated,  Avhich  were  to  guide  and  stamp 
all  his  labors.  He  now  put  forth,  as  it  were,  the  charter 
of  the  great  movement,  to  which  he  was  destined  to  give 
theological  consistency  and  moral  triumph.  He  showed 
himself,  already,  the  master-spirit  who  was  chiefly  capable 
of  guiding  and  consolidating  the  agitated  elements  of 
religious  thought  and  life  around  him. 

After  his  residence    at   Basle,  and   completion  of   the 


CALVIN.  lOT 

lostitiites,  Calvin  made  a  short  visit  to  Italy,  to  Pvence, 
the  Duchess  of  Ferrara,  of  which  we  know  very  little. 
He  then  once  more  is  found  at  Noyon,  settling  the  yiater- 
nal  estate,  which  had  fallen  to  him  on  the  death  of  his 
eldest  brother;  and,  finally,  bidding  it  adieu,  in  com})any 
with  his  younger  brother  Anthony  and  his  sister  Mary. 
His  intention  appears  to  have  been  to  proceed  to  Stras- 
burg ;  but,  the  direct  way  being  rendered  dangerous  by 
the  armies  of  Charles  V.,  which  had  penetrated  into 
France,  he  sought  a  circuitous  route,  through  Savoy  and 
Geneva. 

He  arrived  at  Geneva  late  in  the  summer  of  1536.  He 
meant  merely  to  sojourn  a  single  night  in  the  city,  and 
then  advance  on  his  journey.  He  had  no  thoughts  of  any- 
thing but  of  some  quiet  refuge,  in  which  to  pursue  his 
studies.  "  I  was  wholly  given  up  to  my  own  intense 
thoughts  and  private  studies,"  he  afterwards  said.  But 
his  old  friend,  Tillet,  now  in  Geneva,  discovered  him,  and 
apprised  Farel  of  his  discovery.  Situated  as  Farel  then 
was,  almost  alone,  with  the  Reformation  but  partially 
accomplished,  and  the  elements  of  disturbance  smoulder- 
ing around  him,  the  advent  of  Calvin  seemed  to  him  an 
interposition  of  Divine  Providence.  He  hastened  to  see 
him,  and  set  before  him  his  claims  for  assistance,  and  the 
work  of  God  so  obviously  awaiting  him.  But  Calvin  was 
slow  to  move.  He  urged  his  desire  to  study,  and  be 
serviceable  to  all  churches,  rather  than  to  attach  himself 
to  any  one  church  in  particular.  He  would  fain  have 
yielded  to  the  intellectual  bias  so  strong  in  him,  and  did 
not  yet  acknowledge  to  himself  the  still  stronger  instinct 
for  practical  government  that  lay  behind  his  intellectual 
devotion.  By  some  strange  insight,  however,  Farel  pene- 
trated to  the  higher  fitness  of  the  young  stranger  who 


108         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

stood  before  him,  and  he  ventured,  in  the  spirit  of  thnt 
daring  enthusiasm  which  characterized  him,  to  lay  the 
curse  of  God  upon  him  and  his  studies,  if  he  refused  his 
aid  to  the  church  in  her  time  of  need.  This,  which 
seemed  to  Calvin  a  divine  menace,  had  the  desired 
effect.  "  It  was,"  he  said,  "  as  if  God  had  seized  me  by 
his  awful  hand  from  heaven."  He  abandoned  his  inten- 
tion of  pursuing  his  journey,  and  joined  eagerly  with  Farel 
in  the  work  of  reformation. 

In  order  to  understand  |his  work,  it  is  necessary  to 
understand  something  of  the  previous  history  of  Geneva. 
Without  this  knowledge,  it  is  impossible  to  apprehend, 
and  still  more  impossible  to  estimate,  the  part  which 
Calvin  now  acted.  Geneva  was  nominally  a  free  city  of 
the  empire,  but  had,  in  reality,  been  governed,  for  some 
centuries,  by  its  own  bishop,  associated  with  a  committee 
of  lay  assessors,  and  controlled  by  the  general  body  of  the 
citizens,  in  whose  hands  the  ultimate  power  of  taxation, 
and  of  election  of  the  magistrates,  and  regulation  of  the 
police,  rested.  The  prince-bishop  did  not  exercise  his 
temporal  jfTrisdiction  directly,  but  through  an  officer  called 
the  Vidomme  (vice-dominus),  whose  rights  had,  in  the 
fifteenth  century,  become  hereditary  in  the  dukes  of 
Savoy.  These  rights  appear  to  have  been  exercised 
Avithout  any  considerable  attempt  at  encroachment,  till  the 
beginning  of  the  following  century,  when  Charles  III. 
(1504)  succeeded  to  the  ducal  crown.  To  his  ambition, 
the  bishop,  John,  a  weak  and  willing  tool  of  the  Savoy 
family,  to  which  he  was  nearly  allied,  ceded  everything ; 
and  the  result  was  a  tyrannical  attempt  to  destroy  the 
liberties  of  the  Genevese.  The  Assembly  of  the  citizens 
rose  in  arms;  a  bitter  and  sanguinary  contest  ensued 
between  the  Eidgenossen,  or  Patriot  party,  on  the  one  side. 


CALVIX.  109 

and  the  Mamelukes,  or  Monarchical  party,  on  the  other 
side.  By  the  help  of  the  free  Helvetian  states,  par- 
ticularly Berne  and  Fribnrg,  the  Patriots  triumphed,  the 
friends  of  Savoy  were  banished,  the  Vidommate  abolished, 
and  its  power  transferred  to  a  board  of  magistrates. 

The  conduct  of  the  bishops  in  this  conflict  —  not  only 
of  John,  but  of  his  successor,  Peter  de  la  Baume,  who  to 
his  misgovernraent  added  gross  personal  profligacy  — 
helped  greatly,  as  may  be  imagined,  to  shake  the  old 
hierarchical  authority  in  Geneva;  and  when,  in  1532,  Farel 
first  made  his  appearance  in  the  city,  he  found  a  party  not 
indisposed  to  join  him  in  his  eager  and  zealous  projects  of 
reform.  He  had  a  hard  fight  for  it,  however,  and  was  at 
first  obliged  to  yield,  and  leave  the  city  for  a  time ;  and  it 
was  not  till  August,  1535,  that  he  and  Viret  and  Froment 
succeeded  in  abolishing  the  mass,  and  estal)lishing  the 
Protestant  faith.  During  the  year's  interval,  he  had  pros- 
ecuted his  work  without  ceasing,  amidst  many  difficulties, 
and  Calvin's  arrival  found  him  still  struggling  with  the 
popish  priests  in  the  neighboring  villages,  and  aiming  to 
lay  a  broader  foundation  for  the  Reformed  Church. 

Calvin  was  immediately  elected  Teacher  of  Theology. 
In  the  following  year  he  assumed  the  office  of  preacher,  — 
which  at  first,  apparently,  he  had  declined,  —  and  produced 
such  an  impression  by  his  first  sermon,  that,  it  is  said,  mul- 
titudes followed  him  home,  to  testify  their  enthusiasm.  In 
conjunction  with  Farel,  he  drew  up  a  Confession  of  Faith, 
in  twenty-one  articles,  which  was  submitted  to  the  Coun- 
cil of  Two  Hundred,  —  the  lowest  of  the  representative 
governing  boards  of  the  city,^ — and  by  them  ordered  to 

1  Political  power  rested  ultimately,  as  we  have  stated  in  the  test,  in  the 
whole  body  of  the  citizens,  who  were  entitled  to  meet  in  general  assembly. 
A  representative  body  of  this  council,  however,  composed  of  sixty  memberp, 
10 


110         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

be  printed,  and  proclaimed  in  the  cathedral  church  of  St. 
Peter's,  as  binding  on  the  whole  body  of  the  citizens 
One  of  the  articles  related  to  the  right  of  excommunica- 
tion claimed  by  the  ministers  ;  and  this,  along  with  the 
general  conduct  of  Farel  and  Calvin,  and  the  severity 
with  which  they  reproved  the  vices  of  all  classes  of  the 
community,  soon  awoke  a  storm  of  opposition.  Calvin, 
however,  was  firm ;  he  threatened  to  leave  the  city, 
unless  the  powers  which  he  supposed  necessary  to  his 
work  were  yielded  to  him ;  and  for  the  present  he  pre- 
vailed. 

A  marvellous  change,  in  the  course  of  a  short  time,  was 
wi'ought  upon  the  outward  aspect  of  Geneva.  A  gay  and 
pleasure -loving  people,  devoted  to  music  and  dancing,  the 
evening  wine-shop,  and  card-playing,  found  themselves 
suddenly  arrested  in  their  usual  pastimes.  Not  only  were 
the  darker  vices  of  debauchery,  which  greatly  prevailed, 
punished  by  severe  penalties,  but  the  lighter  follies  and 
amusements  of  society  were  laid  under  imperious  ban.  All 
holidays  were  abolished,  except  Sunday;  the  innocent 
gayeties  of  weddings,  and  the  fashionable  caprices  of 
dress,  were  made  subjects  of  legislation ;  a  bride  was  not 
to  adorn  herself  with  floating  tresses,^  and  her  welcome 
home  was  not  to  be  noisy  with  feasting  and  revelry.  The 
convent  bells,  which  had  rung  their  sweet  chimes  for  ages 
across  the  blue  waters  of  the  Rhone,  and  become  associ- 

was  constituted  in  1457,  in  order  to  avoid  the  turbulence  arising  out  of  too 
frequent  meetings  of  all  the  burgesses,  or  citizens.  In  1526,  after  the  alliance 
of  Friburg  and  Berne,  a  more  extended  representative  council  of  Two  Hun- 
dred was  appointed,  in  imitation  of  the  constitution  of  these  cities.  There 
was,  besides,  an  ordinary  executive  council,  who,  in  conjunction  wnth  the 
four  magistrates,  or  syndics  of  the  year,  practically  administered  the  govern- 
ment of  the  city. 

'  Registres  de  la  Repuh,,  20  Mai  1537  —quoted  by  Henry,  Dyer,  &c. 


CALVIN.  Ill 

ated  with  many  evening  memories  of  love  and  song,  had 
been  previously  destroyed,  »and  cast  into  cannon.^  It  was 
im})ossil)le  that  a  change  so  sudden  and  severe  as  this 
could  be  lasting,  all  at  once.  A  strong  opposition,  partly 
composed  of  political  malcontents,  and  of  the  lovers  of  a 
more  free  and  social  life,  was  gradually  formed ;  and,  after 
various  struggles,  they  succeeded  in  their  resistance  to  the 
clergy,  and  banished  them  the  city. 

It  is  difficult  to  characterize  the  party  which  how  tem- 
porarily prevailed  against  the  Calvinistic  discipline  in 
Geneva,  and  finally,  in  a  later  and  memorable  struggle, 
was  thwarted  and  crushed  by  the  influence  of  the  great 
reformer.  It  has  descended  to  us  under  the  name  of  the 
Libertines ;  but  this  was  in  reality  its  nickname,  given  to 
it  by  its  enemies,  and,  beyond  doubt,  it  serves  greatly  to 
misrepresent  it.  The  Libertines,  rightly  so  called,  were  a 
spiritual  sect  ^vhich  sprang  up  in  the  course  of  the  Refor- 
mation—  a  kind  of  offshoot  of  Anabaptism.  It  is  not 
pretended  by  any  that  the  anti-Calvinist  party  in  Geneva 
were  mainly,  or  even  to  any  considerable  extent,  composed 
of  the  adherents  of  this  spiritual  libertinism,  altliough 
some  of  its  leaders  may  have  shared  in  certain  tenets  of 
the  sect,  and  even  been  in  alliance  with  it.  This  was 
probably  the  position  of  some  of  the  Favre  family,  after- 
wards so  signally  associated  with  the  anti-Calvinist 
reaction.  There  seems  good  reason  to  believe,  however, 
that  the  main  nucleus  of  the  party  was  the  Eidgenossen,  or 
band  of  really  liberal  patriots,  who  had  formerly  rescued 
their  native  city  from  a  foreign  yoke,  and  who  now,  and 
afterwards,  were  animated,  as  we  shall  find,  by  very  strong 


'  This  event  in  reality  took  place  before  the  arrival  of  Calvin  in  1534. 
Regisires,  17  Juillet  1534. 


112         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

feelings,  but  by  very  mixed  and  indefinite  views,  in  the 
part  which  they  acted. 

On  his  expulsion  from  Geneva,  Calvin  proceeded  with 
Farel  to  Berne,  where  a  series  of  negotiations  were  set  on 
foot,  with  a  view  to  the  conciliation  of  the  Genevese,  and 
the  return  of  the  reformers.  Previously,  v/hile  the  dis- 
putes were  still  going  on,  the  Bernese  had  taken  a  friendly 
part  in  them,  and  it  was  hoped  that,  by  their  present  medi- 
ation, they  might  be  still  accommodated.  But  their  efforts, 
thwarted  by  the  bitter  dislike  of  some  of  the  Bernese 
ministers  to  Calvin,  and  by  the  obstina^cy  of  the  Genevese, 
were  fruitless.  The  decree  of  banishment  was  confirmed, 
and  the  reformers  driven  to  seek  some  other  sphere  for 
their  labors.  Calvin  repaired  first  to  Basle,  his  old  place 
of  refuge,  and  then  to  Strasburg,  by  the  invitation  of 
Bucer.  Here  he  settled,  in  the  end  of  153(S,  and  became 
the  pastor  of  a  congregation  of  French  refugees,  who 
were  exiles,  like  himself,  from  his  native  country,  on 
account  of  their  faith. 

Here  Calvin  spent  the  next  three  years,  amongst  the 
happiest,  or*  at  least  the  quietest  and  most  honorable,  cf 
his  life.  At  no  time  does  he  appear  more  admirable  than 
during  those  years  of  exile.  His  magnanimity  and  single- 
minded  earnestness  come  out  strongly  tempered  by  a 
certain  patience,  moderation,  and  sadness,  that  Ave  seem 
to  miss  elsewhere.  Relieved  from  power,  he  was  also 
relieved  from  its  wounding  irritations,  which  -were  apt  (o 
chafe  his  keen  spirit ;  and  we  see  only  the  simple  grandeur, 
wonderful  capacity,  and  trutliful  feeling  of  the  man.  They 
were  years  of  busy  interest  and  activity,  political,  domestic, 
and  theological. 

We  find  him  engaged  in  the  three  great  conferences 
at  Frankfort,   Worms,  and   Batisbon,  —  cooperating  with 


CALVIN.  113 

Bucer,  and  counselling  with  Melanctlion.  Not  less  anxious 
than  either  for  a  comprehensive  peace  which  should  em- 
brace all  the  churches,  he  yet  saw,  with  a  clearer  eye  than 
they  did,  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  union.  His  various 
letters  on  the  subject  to  Farel  are  full  of  sound  wisdom 
and  sense  —  moderate  and  conciliatory,  yet  clear-sighted 
and  earnest  for  the  truth.  "We  see  him  farther  the  centre 
of  a  private  series  of  negotiations,  in  connection  with 
Caroli,  a  singular  impostor  of  the  time,  who  is  strangely 
mixed  up  with  the  history  of  the  Reformation.  This  per- 
son had  previously  rendered  himself  notorious  for  his 
enmity  to  Calvin  and  Farel,  both  of  whom  he  had  accused 
of  Arianism ;  and  afterwards,  when  he  failed  to  establish 
his  reputation  at  their  expense,  he  had  rejoined  the  church 
of  Home.  He  now  sought  a  reconciliation  with  the 
reformers,  and  seems  to  have  imposed  upon  the  good 
nature  of  Farel.  Calvin,  how^ever,  was  not  so  easily 
moved ;  and  his  letters  to  Farel,  in  which  he  takes  him  to 
task  for  his  softness  in  the  matter,  especially  one  of  Siii 
October,  1539,  gives  a  curious,  self-unveiled  glimpse  of 
the  reformer's  vehemence  of  temper.^ 

1  "  They  appointed  a  meeting  with  me  together  at  the  house  of  Mathias, 
when  I  might  expUiin  fully  what  it  was  that  distressed  me.  There  I  sinned 
grievously  in  not  having  been  able  to  keep  within  bounds;  for  so  had  the 
bile  taken  entire  possession  of  my  mind,  that  I  poured  out  bitterness  on  all 
sides.     There  was  certainly  some  cause  for  indignation,  if  moderation  had 

only  been  observed  in  the  expression  of  it In  the  conclusion  of 

my  speech,  I  stated  my  resolution  rather  to  die  than  to  subscribe  this. 
Thereupon  there  was  so  much  fervor  on  both  sides,  that  I  could'  not  have 
been  more  rude  to  Caroli  himself,  had  he  been  present.  At  lengtli  I  forced 
myself  out  of  the  supper-room,  Bucer  following,  who,  after  he  hr.I  soothed 
me  by  his  fair  speeches,  brought  me  back  to  the  test.  I  said  tht.t  I  wished 
to  consider  the  matter  more  fully  before  making  any  further  reply.  When 
I  got  home  I  was  seized  with  an  extraordinary  paroxysm,  nor  did  I  find  any 
other  solace  than  in  sighs  and  tears." — Letters,  vol.  i.  p.  136. 

10* 


114    LEADERS  OF  THE  EE  FORMATION. 

In  the  midst  of  these  negotiations,  piibHc  and  private, 
he  was  induced  to  think  of  marriage.  "  I  am  so  ranch  at 
my  ease,"  he  says,  in  a  spirit  approaching  to  jocnlarity,  "  as 
to  have  the  andacity  fo  think  of  taking  a  wife.''^  He  had, 
in  fact,  a  year  before,  written  to  Farel  on  the  subject,  and 
various  projects  of  union  were,  in  the  meantime,  set  on 
foot  by  his  friends;  Avhich,  however,  came  to  nothing. 
The  truth  is,  that  he  was  himself  but  a  rehictant  suitor, 
and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  urgency  of  Bucer  particu- 
larly, he  would  probably  never  have  taken  any  step  in  the 
matter.  "  I  am  none  of  those  insane  lovers,"  he  says, 
"who  embrace  also  the  vices  of  those  they  are  in  love 
with,  when  they  are  smitten  at  first  sight  with  a  fine 
figure.  This  only  is  the  beauty  that  allures  me,  —  if  she 
is  chaste,  if  not  too  nice  or  fastidious,  if  economical,  if 
patient,  if  there  is  hope  that  she  will  be  interested  about 
my  health."^  There  is  a  ndiveU  amusing,  if  it  were  not 
(^  so  cold,  in  the  manner  in  which  he  narrates  to  Farel  how 
'  o«ie  matrimonial  project  failed,  and  another  was  vigor- 
ously taken  up  by  him.  "  A  certain  damsel,  of  noble  rank, 
has  been  proposed  to  me,  and  with  a  fortune  above  my 
condition.  Two  considerations  deterred  me  from  that  con- 
nection—  because  she  did  not  understand  our  language, 
and  because  I  feared  she  might  be  too  mindful  of  her 
family  and  education.  Her  brother,  a  very  devout  person, 
urged  the  connection ;  his  wife  also,  with  a  like  partiality ; 
so  that  I  would  have  been  prevailed  to  submit,  with  a 
good  grace,  unless  the  Lord  had  otherwise  aj)pointed. 
When  I  replied  that  I  could  not  engage  myself,  unless  the 
maiden  would  undertake  to  apply  her  mind  to  the  learning 
of    our    language,   she   requested    time   for    deliberation. 

1  Letter  to  Farel,  Sept.  loiO,  vol.  i.  p.  149.  2  ib_^  p.  ii7. 


CALVIN.  115 

Thereapon,  without  further  parley,  I  sent  my  brother  to 
escort  here  another,  who,  if  she  answers  her  repute,  will 
bring  a  dowry  large  enough,  without  any  money  at  all."^ 

The  person  here  referred  to  —  undowried,  save  in  char- 
acter and  reputation  —  was  Idelelte  de  Biires,  the  widow 
of  an  Anabaptist  whom  he  had  converted ;  and  to  her  he 
was  married  on  the  following  August  (1540).  We  learn 
but  little  of  her.  Calvin  never  unveils  his  domestic  life 
as  Luther  does.  We  never  catch  the  warm  firelight  of 
his  family  hearth  kindling  in  any  of  his  letters  ;  no  touches 
of  playful  portraiture  relieve  their  gravity ;  and  Idelette  de 
Bures  remains,  consequently,  but  a  dim  personality  beside 
Catherine  Von  Bora.  All  that  we  know  of  Calvin's  wife, 
however,  points  to  a  somewhat  elevated,  if  not  very  inter- 
esting character.  He  himself  speaks  of  her  as  "  a  woman 
of  rare  qualities ; "  and  the  account  which  he  has  given 
of  her  death-bed  (their  union  only  lasted  nine  years),  is 
deeply  touching  in  the  picture  of  simple  affection,  and 
absorbed,  if  somewhat  unmoved,  piety,  which  it  pre- 
sents.^ No  breath  of  unhappiness  seems  to  have  rested 
on  a  union  which,  if  unins{)ired  by  passion,  was,  at  the 
same  time,  free  from  all  sordidness.  She  was  mother  of 
several  children  by  her  previous  husband;  to  Calvin  she 
had  only  one  child,  whose  early  loss  was  a  profound  grief 
to  the  reformer.  "  My  wife,"  he  writes  to  Farei,  "  sends 
her  best  thanks  for  your  friendly  and  holy  consolations. 
The  Lord  has  indeed  inflicted  a  grievous  and  a  bitter 
wound  in  the  death  of  our  little  son.'"^ 

The  nK)st  remarkable  of  his  theological  labors,  at  this 
time,  was   his   elaboration  of  the  Institutes  into  the  ex- 


1  Letter  to  Fare],  Sept.  1540,  vol.  i.  p.  150.  3  Ibid.,  voL  i.  p.  320. 

2  Letters,  voL  ii,  pp.  203,  204. 


116         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

tended  edition  which  is  famihar  to  us,  and  which  appeared 
at  Strasburg  in  1539.  There  were  improvements  and 
further  extensions  in  subsequent  editions,  even  to  the  last, 
issued  from  the  press  of  Robert  Stephens,  at  Geneva,  in 
1559  ;  but  the  work  remained  substantially  the  same  after 
this.  Among  the  most  marked  additions  of  the  Strasburg 
edition,  was  the  detailed  exhibition  of  his  ecclesiastical 
system.  His  thoughts  had  been  naturally  turned  to  this 
subject  by  his  experience  in  Geneva;  and,  consistently 
with  the  bent  of  his  intellectual  character,  he  was  led  not 
to  modify  his  views,  but  to  work  them  out  into  a  more 
thorough  and  consistent  shape.  A  scarcely  less  important 
contribution  to  theological  literature  was  furnished  by  him, 
in  the  same  year,  in  his  Commentary  on  St.  Paul's  Epistle 
to  the  Komans,  —  the  first  of  that  noble  series  of  exegeti- 
cal  works  which,  apart  from  all  other  claims  to  distinction, 
would  have  placed  his  name  in  the  highest  rank  of  Christian 
authors. 

In  the  meantime,  during  these  years,  the  state  of  things 
at  Geneva  had  greatly  altered.  After  the  first  outburst  of 
their  triumph,  and  the  most  riotous  manifestation  of  their 
hostility  to  the  expelled  reformers,  the  party  of  the  Liber- 
tines soon  began  to  feel  the  inherent  v/eakness  springing 
out  of  the  want  of  any  fixity  or  determination  in  their 
principles  and  aims.  Some  had  sought  political,  some  only 
personal  liberty,  and  not  a  few  had  joined  in  the  move- 
ment from  mere  negative  motives  —  dislike  of  Calvin  and 
of  the  French,  and  of  all  effective  moral  or  civil  restraints. 
In  such  a  party,  there  were  no  elements  of  a  continued 
constructive  opposition  to  the  ecclesiastical  rule  and  disci- 
pline which  they  had  overthrow^n.  The  hand  of  authority 
was  relaxed,  and  license  worse  than  that  of  the  old  Cath- 
olic times  returned.      Two  of  the  syndics  who  had  taken  a 


CALVIN.  117 

lead  in  the  expulsion  of  the  ministers,  perished  by  a 
violent  death,  and  two  were  exiled  for  the  miscarriage  of 
so;ne  embassy  in  which  they  engaged.  The  new  re- 
forming clergy  were  destitute  of  any  ability  or  energy 
of  character  to  meet  the  disorders  that  sprang  up  on  all 
sides,  and  left  the  city  a  prey  to  the  weakness  at  once  of 
faction  and  of  immorality.  In  these  circumstances,  it  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  friends  of  the  reformers 
should  have  gradually  gathered  something  of  their  former 
influence,  and  that,  in  the  course  of  two  years'  experience 
of  an  unsettled  and  disorderly  civic  condition,  a  very 
different  spirit  should  have  begun  to  manifest  itself  towards 
the  exiled  clergy.  The  conduct  of  Calvin,  moreover, 
helped  greatly  to  quicken  this  returning  feeling.  Although  ^ 
the  Genevese  had  driven  him  with  ignominy  from  their 
city,  he  did  not  cease  to  cherish  a  warm  interest  in  its 
welfare;  and  when  Sadolet,  bishop  of  Dauphiny,  — a  man 
of  acknowledged  merits,  who  had  recently  received  a  car- 
dinal's hat  from  Rome,  —  turned  his  attention  to  Geneva, 
and  thought  to  improve  the  opportunity  of  its  dissensions 
to  the  advantage  of  his  church,  by  addressing  a  letter  to 
the  Council  and  burgesses,  inviting  them  to  return  vdthin 
its  bosom,  Calvin  took  up  the  pen  against  him,  and  power- 
fully vindicate  d  the  religious  interests  of  his  former  fellow- 
citizens.  The  result  of  all  was,  that  before  the  end  of 
1540,  the  Council  and  new  syndics  sent  a  letter  to  the 
reformer,  imploring  him  to  return,  and  reiissume  his  oj.d  _^L^ 
position  of  authority^   The  letter  is  very  interesting,  as  ^ 

showing  the  complete  revulsion  of  feeling  that  had  oc- 
curred in  the  city,  and  how  naturally  all  eyes  turned  to 
Calvin  in  the  circumstances.  "On  the  part,"  it  bears, 
"  of  our  lesser  great  and  general  (which  hereupon  have 
strongly  admonished  us),  we  pray  you  earnestly  that  you 


118         LEADERS     OF     THE    REFORMATION. 

would  transfer  yourself  hitherward  to  us,  and  return  to 
your  old  place  and  former  ministry;  and  we  hope,  with  the 
help*  of  God,  that  this  shall  be  a  great  benefit,  and  fruitfid 
for  the  increase  of  the  holy  evangel,  seeing  that  our  people 
greatly  desire  you  among  us,  and  will  conduct  themselves 
towards  you  in  such  sort  that  you  shall  have  occasion  to 
rest  content."^ 
^^-O^  Calvin,  however,  did  not  return  to  Geneva  till  the  13th 

^^1^  of  September,  1541.  He  was  in  no  hurry  to  respond  to 
the  call  made  to  him.,  not  from  any  motives  of  pique  or 
affectation,  but  from  the  double  reason  that  he  could  not 
all  at  once  quit  his  pastoral  engagements  at  Strasburg,  and 
that  he  needed  some  evidence  of  the  sincere  willingness 
of  the  Genevese  to  submit  to  the  reestablishment  of  the 
f  reformed  discipline.  Convinced  at  length,  he  embraced 
their  invitation,  and  reentered  upon  his  old  duties.  With 
a  steadier  comprehension  and  increased  vigor,  he  began 
again  the  great  work  of  practical  reformation  which  had 
been  rudely  interrupted  tliree  years  before,  and  never 
^     henceforth  swerved  or  yielded  in  it. 

iw^^  "****•  We  shall  afterwards  consider  at  length  the  merits  of 
Calvin's  ecclesiastical  disciphne ;  but  we  must  here  sketch 
the  machinery  by  which  he  established  and  worked  it, 
and,  to  some  extent,  the  character  of  the  results  which 
followed  it. 

Calvin's  general  vieAvs  of  church  government,  as  ex- 
pounded in  the  fourth  book  of  the  Institutes,  are  suffi- 
ciently well  known.  In  no  respect,  perhaps,  are  they  more 
remarkable  than  in  a  certain  comprehensiveness  and  catho- 
licity of  tone,  which  to  many  will  appear  strangely  asso 
ciated  with  his  name.    But  Calvin  was  far  too  enlightened 

1  Letters,  vol.  i.  p.  IDO. 


CALVIN.  119 

not  to  recognize  the  grandeur  of  the  Catholic  idea,  which 
had  descended  through  so  many  ages ;  this  idea  had,  in 
truth,  for  such  a  mind  as  his,  special  attractions,  and  his 
own  system,  we  shall  find,  mainly  sought  to  give  to  the 
same  idea  a  new  and  higher  form.  The  narrowness  and 
intolerance  of  his  ecclesiastical  rule  did  not  so  much  spring 
out  of  the  general  principles  laid  down  in  the  Institutes,  as 
from  his  special  interpretation  and  apphcation  of  these 
principles. 

The  Calvinistic  plan  of  church  government  is  repre-  '^^S 
sented  by  doctors  and  pastors,  and  certain  assessors,  under  N^ 
the  name  of  Elders.  These  are  merely  office-bearers  for 
the  general  Christian  community  or  church,  which  is  com- 
posed alike  of  laity  and  clergy,  with  no  radical  or  heredi- 
tary distinction  of  priesthood.  The  doctor  is  the  learned 
interpreter  of  Scripture  and  teacher  of  theology.  The 
function  of  the  pastor  is  not  merely  to  preach,  but,  by  the 
practical  administration  of  discipline,  in  conjunction  with 
the  elders,  to  reprove,  warn,  and  punish.  The  civil  power 
is  recognized  as  distinct  from  the  ecclesiastical,  but  as 
bound  to  support  the  latter,  in  carrying  out  its  authorit}'',  in 
the  repression  of  vice  and  offences  against  religion,  such 
as  idolatry  and  blasphemy.  There  is  some  conception  of 
the  right  general  principle  here,  as  elsewhere ;  but  in 
practice,  it  was  utterly  confused  and  misapplied,  and  could 
not  help  being  so,  in  conjunction  with  the  notions  which 
then  universally  prevailed,  as  to  the  moral  jurisdiction  of 
the  magistrate. 

This  mode  of  church  government  expressed  itself  in 
two  main  courts  in  Geneva,  as  follows  : 

1.  There  was  a  college  of  pastors  and  doctors,  under  the 
name  of  "  The  Venerable  Company."  This  college  was 
composed  of  all  the  clergy  of  the  state,  both  those  of  the 


120         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

city  and  of  the  rural  parishes,  with  the  teachers  of  the- 
ology, and  to  it  belonged  the  general  supervision  of  church 
affairs,  especially  of  all  connected  with  the  education, 
qualification,  and  appointment  of  persons  to  the  ministry. 
It  selected  and  determined,  in  the  Jir&t  place,  as  to  all  can- 
didates, and  the  fitness  of  their  ordination  to  special 
charges,  and  the  people  were  finally  invited  to  sanction 
the  nomination,  or  "  if  there  be  any  one  who  is  aware  of 
aught  to  object  to  in  the  life  or  doctrine  of  the  person 
nominated,  to  come  and  declare  it  to  one  of  the  syndics, 
before  the  next  following  Sunday,  on  which  day,  also,  it 
may  be  presented,  to  the  end  that  no  one  be  inducted  to 
the  ministry,  except  with  the  common  consent  of  the 
whole  church."  A  sufficiently  fair  and  seemly  order!  — 
the  rights  of  authority,  on  the  one  hand,  asserted,  and  the 
rights  of  the  people,  on  the  other  hand,  recognized  ;  but 
there  seems  to  have  been  no  adequate  provision  for  a 
conciliating  adjustment  of  the  conflicting  rights  so  soon 
as  actual  collision  should  arise.  The  future  difficulties  of 
presbytery  were  thus  implied  in  its  very  origin. 

2.  There  was  a  consistorial  court  of  discipline,  of  far 
more  practical  and  living  authority  than  the  general  college 
of  pastors  and  doctors.  This  court  was  constituted  by  the 
five  pastors  of  the  city  parishes,  and  twelve  elders.  These 
elders  "were  selected  from  the  two  representative  councils 
of  the  city,  —  two  from  the  Council  of  Sixty,  and  the 
remainder  from  the  Council  of  Two  Hundred.  Their 
nomination  lay  with  the  ordinary  council,  in  conjunction 
with  the  Company.  The  consistory  was  thus  chiefly  com- 
posed of  lay  members ;  but  the  influence  of  the  clergy, 
although,  numerically  reckoned,  it  appears  small,  was,  in 
reality,  strongly  secured  in  the  mode  of  appointment  of 
the  elders,  which  was  annual,  besides  being  so  far  under 


CALVIN.  121 

the  direct  control  of  the  clergy.  The  clerical  element  was 
comparatively  fixed,  the  lay  constituency  varied  from  year 
to  year. 

This  consistorial  court  became  the  great  engine  of  Cal- 
vin's power.  He  is  supposed  by-and-by  to  have  assumed 
the  permanent  presidency  of  it/  although  this  constitu- 
tionally belonged  to  one  of  the  syndics.  It  extended  its 
jurisdiction  over  all  social  usages,  as  well  as  ofiences 
against  morality  and  religion.  It  was  a  conrt  of  practical 
ethics,  in  the  widest  sense  —  the  church  in  that  repressive, 
disciplinory  aspect,  which  had  such  a  charm  for  Calvin's 
mind,  and  in  which  it  alone  seemed  to  him  to  rise  to  its 
right  character  and  use.  Its  only  direct  ^veapon  of  au- 
thority was  excommunication;  but  where  this  proved 
unavailing  or  inadequate,  the  culprit  was  transferred  to 
the  council,  which  inflicted  on  him  any  measure  of  civil 
punishment,  even  to  death. 

The  great  code^  of  ecclesiastical  and  moral  legislation, 
^nich  guided  both  the  consistory  and  council,  was  the 
production  of  Calvin.  It  was  sworn  to  by  the  whole  of 
the  people,  in  a  great  assembly  in  S.t.  Peter's,  on  the  20th 
of  November,  1541.  It  not  only  laid  down  general  rules, 
but  entered,  with  the  most  rigorous  control,  into  all  the 
affairs  of  private  life.  "  From  his  cradle  to  his  grave," 
"the  Genevese  citizen  was  pursued  by  its  inquisitorial 
eye.""^  Ornaments  for  the  person,  the  shape  and  length 
of  the  hair,  the  modes  of  dress,  the  very  number  of  dishes 


'  The  evidence  is  an  entry  in  the  Registers  of  Geneva,  sixteen  j-ears  after 
his  deatli,  which  the  reader  may  consult  in  Henry's  Life,  vol.  i.  p.  4G9.  — 
Geneva. 

^  Ordinances  Ecclesiastiques  de  VFylese  —  Geneva,  1577. 

3  See  an  admirable  article,  "  Calvin  in  Geneva,"  West.  Rev.,  3\\]y  1858. 

11 


122    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

for  dinner/  were  subjected  to  special  regulation.  Wed- 
ding presents  are  only  permitted  within  limits;  and  at 
betrothals,  marriages,  or  baptisms,  bouquets  must  not  be 
encircled  \vith  gold  or  jewelled  with  pearls,  or  other 
precious  stones.  "  Est  defenduVle  donner  aus  dites  fian- 
cailles,  n^pces,  ou  baplusailles  de^  bouquetg  hcs  d'or  cu 
danetilfes)^  ou  garnis  de-  grenats,  perles,  et  autres  pi\nc- 
rts."   I       '^  \ 

"The  registers  of  Geneva  remain  to  show  with  wliat 
abundant  rigor  these  regulations  were  carried  out.  It  is  a 
strange  and  mournful  record,  with  ludicrous  lights  crossing- 
it  here  and  there.  A  man,  hearing  an  ass  bray,  and  sa^^- 
iug,  jestingly,  "  E  chante  un  beau  psaume,"  is  sentenced 
to  temporary  banishment  from  the  city.  A  young  girl,  in 
church,  singing  the  words  of  a  song  to  a  psalm-tune,  is 
ordered  to  be  whipped  by  her  parents.  Three  children  are 
punished  because,  during  the  sermon,  instead  of  going  to 
church,  they  remained  outside  to  eat  cakes.  A  man,  for 
swearing  by  the  "  body  and  blood  of  Christ,"  is  condemned 
to  be  fined,  and  to  sit  in  the  public  square,  in  the  stocks. 
Light  reading,  in  the  shape  of  Amadis  de  Gaul,  —  as  dear 
to  the  lovers  of  romance  then  as  the  treasures  of  the  cir- 
culating library  are  to  the  modern   reader,  —  is  peremp- 


J  "  Item,  que  nul  fiiisant  nopces,  banquets  ou  festins  n'ait  a  faire  au  ser- 
vice d'iceux  plus  haut  d'une-venue  ou  mlse  de  chairs  ou  de  poisson  et  de 
cinq  plats  an  plus,  honnestes  et  raissonables  en  ce  non  compenrises  les  mes- 
mes  entrees,  et  huict  plats  de  tout  dessert  et  q'au  dit  dessert  q'uait  pastisse- 
rie,  ou  piece  de  four,  sinou  una  tourt  seulemeiat,  et  cela  en  cbacune  table  de 
dix  personnes."  It  is  a  singular  and  instructive  fact,  that,  amid  the  long- 
continued  decay  of  religious  Protestantism  in  Geneva,  the  memory  of  the 
rigor  of  Calvin's  sumptuary  laws  remains  a  kind  of  popular  tradition,  at  once 
ludicrous  and  melan-choly.  An  old  man,  who  pointed  out  to  the  writer  the 
supposed  resting-place  of  the  reformer,  seemed  to  have  little  other  idea  of 
Calvin  than  as  the  man  who  limited  the  number  of  dishes  at  dinner  ! 


CALVIN.  123 

torily  forbidden,  and  the  book  ordered  to  be  destroyed. i 
And  there  are  darker  colors  far  m  the  picture,  at  which  we 
shrink,  as  their  shadow  still  falls  across  three  centuries 
upon  us.  A  child,  for  having  struck  her  parents,  was 
beheaded  in  1568.  Another  lad  of  sixteen,  for  having 
only  threatened  to  strike  his  mother,  was  condemned  to 
death.^  If  we  think  of  what  even  mothers,  alas !  some- 
times are,  and  how  temporary  and  trivial  are  often  the 
worst  of  sncli  domestic  collisions,  —  momentary  bursts  of 
childish  passion,  without  moral  instinct  of  any  kind,  —  it 
makes  one's  blood  run  chill  to  think  of  an  arbitrary  death, 
inflcted  for  such  offences. 

A  system  of  such  a  character  could  only  maintain  itself 
on  an  absokite  divine  right, — a  right  nowhere,  indeed, 
formally  set  forth  by  Calvin,  yet  distinctly  asserted  in  all 
the  spirit  and  practice  of  his  ecclesiastical  legislation. 
The  consistorial  discipline,  for  example,  when  the  Favres 
began  to  rebel  against  it,  is  declared  to  be  "  the  yoke  of 
Christ."^  The  ordinances  and  laws  of  Geneva,  and  the 
whole  system  of  polity  of  which  Calvin  himself  remained 
the  centre,  is  carried  back  to  Scripture,  and  presumed  to 
rest  upon  express  divine  command.  This  was  the  only 
valid  plea  and  justification  of  a  system  which  applied 
itself  in  so  direct  and  authoritative  manner  to  the  regula- 
tion of  human  life.  It  could  only  stand  as  a  special 
embodiment  of  the  Divine  will  —  as  a  declared  Theocracy. 

Henceforth   Calvin's  life  in   Geneva  does  not  present 

'  Eegistres,  Mars  1559. 

2  Henry,  vol.  i.  p.  361;  English.  Henry  seems  only  to  see  in  these  exam- 
ples "  great  beauty  in  the  earnestness  with  which  parental  authority  was  de- 
fended." They  strongly  show  the  judicial  spirit  of  Calvin,  and  his  confusion 
of  the  temporary  legalism  of  the  Old  Economy  with  the  spirit  and  require- 
ments of  the  NeAv, 

^  Letters,  vol,  ii.  p.  49, 


124    LEADEES  or  THE  REFORMATION. 

any  very  varied  course  of  incident.  It  is  mainly  a  suc- 
cession of  earnest  labors  in  defence  of  the  truth,  and  of 
earnest  struggles  against  its  enemies.  His  activity  was 
indefatigable,  and  his  keen  spirit  kne^v  scarcely  what  it 
was  to  rest  day  by  day.  His  ordinary  duties  are  thus 
described  by  Beza :  "  During  the  week,  he  preached  every 
alternate,  and  lectured  every  third  day  ;  on  Thursday  he 
met  with  the  presbytery,  and  on  Friday  attended  the  ordi- 
nary Scripture  meeting  called  '  the  congregation,'  where  he 
had  his  full  share  of  the  duty."  His  Commentaries,  on 
which  he  now  continued  to  work  regularly,  and  his  unceas- 
ing correspondence,  filled  up  a  measure  of  industry  which 
we  contemplate  witli  astonishment.  No  man  certainly 
was  ever  less  self-indulgent,  and  if  he  was  severe  in  his 
exactions  from  others,  he  was  no  less  unsparing  with  him- 
self Viret  continued  temporarily  associated  with  him  at 
Geneva ;  but  he  was  soon  left  to  bear  the  main  burden  of 
ecclesiastical  rule  himself,  as  his  permanent  colleagues 
enjoyed  comparatively  little  esteem. 

**  More  than  anything  else,  the  subsequent  tenor  of  the 
reformer's  life  is  marked  hj  the  successive  controversies 
in  which  he  was  engaged.  Caroli  again  appears  for  a 
brief  space  upon  the  scene,  but  disappears  finally  in 
deserved  obscurity  and  disgrace  —  closing  a  life  of  scan- 
dalous imposture  by  a  death  of  infamy  in  a  Roman  hos- 
pital. Then  in  succession  the  names  of  Pighius,  Castellio, 
Eolsec,  and,  farther  on,  AVestphal  and  Heshusius,  besides 
the  well-Jknovrn  names  of  Servetus  and  Amy  Perrin  at 
the  head  of  the  Libertines,  are  among  the  most  prominent 
that  mark  the  controversial  epochs  into  which  his  history 
now  runs.  We  shall  advance  by  a  slight  glance  at  the 
successive  points  of  interest  and  conflict  which  these 
names  suggest,  in  one  or  two  instances  touching  only  in 


CALVIN.  125 

the  most  cursory  way  what  by  itself  might  lead  into  wide 
discussion. 

Pighius  was  a  zealous  Papist  of  the  Cologne  school,  a 
pupil  of  Adrian,  and  tutor  of  Charles  V.  He  published, 
about  the  time  Calvin  returned  to  Geneva,  an  elaborate 
treatise  on  the  old  subject  of  Free  Will  and  Predestina- 
tion, in  opposition  to  the  views  of  the  reformers.  Calvin, 
so  soon  as  the  first  press  of  his  labors  permitted,  rephed,  in 
a  volume  which  he  dedicated  to  Melancthon.  He  dis- 
cusses the  arguments  of  Pighius  in  detail,  and  vindicates 
the  reasoning  of  Luther,  while  he  admits  the  hyperbolical 
character  of  his  language  in  certain  cases.  What  is 
particularly  remarkable,  is  his  generous  appreciation  of 
Luther's  character  and  talents,  as  indeed  this  appears 
elsewhere  in  his  Letters.^  So  far  as  the  merits  of  the 
controversy  are  concerned,  it  cannot  be  said  that  he  is  any 
more  successful  than  the  German  reformer.  He  is  here 
and  everywhere  more  simple  and  cautious  in  his  state- 
ments ;  but  his  cold  reiterations  and  evasions  really  no 
more  touch  the  obvious  difficulties  than  Luther's  heated 
paradoxes.  A  point  of  interest  connected  with  the  dispute 
is  the  tradition  that  Calvin's  work  was  successful  in  con- 
verting Pighius  to  predestinarian  views.  Thi^  seems  to 
rest  on  so  slender  a  foundation,  however,  that  it  is  con- 
tended, on  the  other  hand,  that  Pighius  was  dead  before 
Calvin's  work  appeared.  He  is  said  to  have  died  in 
December,  1542,  while  the  reply  of  the  reformer  was  not 
published  till  the  following  year.  Calvin  himself  says, 
somewhat  summarily,  that  "  Pighius  died  a  little  after  my 
book  was  published;  wherefore,  not  to  insult  a  dead  dog, 
I  applied  myself  to  other  lucubrations." 

1  Letters  (to  Bullinger  especially),  vol.  i.  p.  409. 
11* 


126         LEADERS     OP     THE     K  E  F  0  R  M  A  T  I  0  N  . 

The  dispute  with  Sebastian  CastelHo  was  of  a  more 
ppvinful  and  prolonged  character.  Calvin  had  become 
acquainted  with  Castellio  at  Strasburg.  They  seem  at 
fust  to  have  warmly  attracted  one  another,  and  Calvin 
was,  beyond  all  doubt,  for  some  time  very  zealous  in  his 
friendliness  to  the  poor  scholar,  whose  ingenious  spirit  and 
classical  acquirements  had  won  his  regard.  On  his  return 
to  Geneva,  he  invited  him  thither,  and  procured  for  him 
the  appointment  of  regent,  or  tutor,  in  the  gymnasium  of 
the  city.  In  reality,  however,  there  were  but  few  points 
of  sympathy  between  the  two  men.  Castellio's  learning 
was  intensely  humanistic;  his  classical  tastes  and  some- 
what arbitrary  criticism  moulded  all  that  he  did ;  and, 
especially  as  he  aspired  to  be  a  theologian,  and  to  carry 
this  spirit  into  his  Scriptural  studies,  he  soon  came  into 
conflict  v/ith  Calvin.  The  fu'st  indications  of  disagreement 
between  them  are  to  be  found  in  a  letter  of  Calvin's  to 
Farel,  in  September,  1542,  in  which  he  speaks  of  the 
freaks  of  "our  friend  Sebastian,  Vvdiich  may  both  raise 
your  bile  and  your  laughter  at  the  same  time."  ^  These 
freaks  relate  to  Castellio's  notions  of  Scriptural  transla- 
tion, and  his  refusal  of  Calvin's  offer  to  revise  his  version, 
while  offering  to  come  and  read  it  to  him.  Then,  subse- 
quently, in  February,  1544,  there  appears,  in  a  further 
letter  to  Farel,  and  in  the  Council  Registers,  evidence  that 
Castellio  had  desired  to  enter  into  the  ministry,  but  that 
Calvin  had  advised  the  Council  that  this  was  not  expe.- 
dient,  on  account  of  some  ])eculiar  opinions  ivhich  he  held. 
These  were  certain  rationalistic  views  as  to  the  authen- 
ticity and  character  of  the  Song  of  Solomon,  the  descent 
of  Christ  into  hell,  and  also  about  election.     Still,  at  this 

1  Letters,  vol.  i.  p.  32G. 


CALVIN.  127 

date  Calvin  speaks  kindly  of  him,  and  recommends  him 
strongly  to  the  patronage  of  Farel.  He  seems  to  have 
left  Geneva,  at  this  time,  for  Lausanne,  but  to  have  re- 
turned shortly ;  and,  irritated  probably  by  disappointment, 
he  now  vehemently  attacked  Calvin.  After  a  violent 
scene  in  church,  which  is  painted,  perhaps,  with  some 
exaggeration  by  the  reformer,^  he  was  forced  to  leave  the 
city.  The  two  old  friends,  now  declared  enemies,  did  not 
spare  each  other  henceforth.  Castellio  retired  to  Basle, 
and,  among  his  other  employments,  busied  himself  with 
the  free  criticism  of  the  Calvinistic  doctrines  ;  and  par- 
ticularly, nearly  ten  years  after  this,  a  tract  appeared  on 
the  death  of  Servetus,  and  the  subject  of  toleration,  v^^hich 
was  at  once  imputed  to  him  by  Calvin  and  Beza.  Both 
replied  in  no  measured  terms.  Later  still,  an  anonymous 
pubhcation,  attacking  with  keen  logic  and  covert  and 
ingenious  sarcasm  the  Genevan  theology,  was  supposed 
to  proceed  from  his  pen ;  and  the  reformers,  in  their 
answer  in  the  preface  to  their  version  of  the  N^w  Testa- 
ment, stigmatize  him  as  a  "  deceiver  and  vessel  of  Satan." 
It  is  but  a  melancholy  spectacle  of  polemical  hatred  on 
both  sides ;  but  the  truculence  of  the  theologians,  it  must 
be  confessed,  bears  off  the  palm.  Castellio  was  no  match 
for  them  in  strength  of  argument  or  firm  consistency  of 
purpose.  He  lived  on  in  great  poverty  at  Basle,  cultivating 
his  garden  with  his  own  hand,  and  without  the  means  of 
fuel,  as  he  sat  up  at  night  to  finish  his  translation  of  the 
Scriptures.  He  died  in  want,  in  1563,  the  same  year  as 
Calvin  ;  and  Montaigne-  has  given  vent  to  his  expressions 
of  shame  for  his  age,  that  one  so  distinguished  should 
have  been  left  to  die  so  miserably.      A  regretful  memory 

'  Letter  to  Farel,  vol.  i.  p.  396.  2  ^ssais,  lib.  i.  c.  34. 


128         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

lingers  around  his  blameless  scholarly  life,  pinching  pov- 
erty, and  sad  death,  and  especially  the  incident,  so  touch- 
ing in  its  simplicity,  of  his  going,  during  the  night,  to  the 
banks  of  the  Rhine,  to  pick  up  pieces  of  drift-wood  for  his 
scanty  fii-e,  —  a  story  which  was  only  elicited  from  him  in 
ansv/er  to  Calvin's  charge  of  his  having  stolen  the  wood, 
—  a  fact  sufficient  to  prove  the  disgraceful  spirit  in  which 
these  controversies  were  conducted,  and  how  deservedly 
they  are  consigned  to  oblivion. 

The  controversy  with  Bolsec  carries  us  on  to  1551,  and, 
both  in  its  special  subject,  and  in  the  character  of  the  man, 
presents  a  marked  contrast  to  the  preceding.  Bolsec  was 
originally  a  Carmelite  monk,  but  he  had  thrown  aside  the 
habit,  and  betaken  himself  to  the  practice  of  medicine. 
He  came  to  Geneva  in  the  above  year,  and  settled  as  a 
physician.  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  the  integrity  of 
his  character,  although  Beza  has  thrown  out  insinuations 
against  it.  What  were  liis  previous  relations  to  Calvin, 
we  are  n-ot  informed ;  but  he  began  to  question  his  great 
doctrine  of  predestination.  He  made  it  the  subject  of 
discussion  and  attack  among  his  friends.  This  no  sooner 
reached  Calvin's  ears  than  he  called  him  to  account,  — 
summoned  him  fii'st  to  a  private  interview,  then  before  the 
consistory,  and  made  him  understand  that  he  was  not  at 
liberty  to  question  the  Genevan  doctrine.  In  a  letter  to 
Christopher  Libertet,  Calvin  has  given  a  description  of  the 
manner  in  which  Bolsec  sought  to  vindicate  himself,  and 
how  he  was  dealt  with  by  himself  and  the  other  clergy. 
The  picture  is  not  a  very  amiable  one,  and  the  poor  her- 
etic excites  our  sympathy,  even  in  the  narrative  of  his 
great  adversary.  "  He  was  called  before  our  Assembly, 
Avhen,  in  spite  of  his  cavils,  I  dragged  him  from  his  hiding- 
place  into  the  light.     Besides  the  fifteen  ministers,  other 


CALVIN.  129 

competent  witnesses  were  present ;  and  all  know  that,  if 
he  had  had  a  single  drop  of  modesty,  he  would  have  been 
immediately  convicted.  At  first  he  used  trifling  and  pue- 
rile cavils ;  but,  being  more  closely  pressed,  he  threw  aside 
all  shame.  Sometimes  he  denied  what  he  had  twice  or 
thrice  conceded,  and  then  admitted  what  he  had  ques- 
tioned ;  he  not  only  vacillated,  but  entirely  abandoned  his 
principles,  and  kept  working  in  the  same  circle,  without 
measure  or  aid."  ^  No  wonder  I  —  to  be  baited  by  fifteen 
ministers,  with  Calvin  at  their  head,  must  have  been  more 
than  enough  to  disturb  the  consistency  and  weaken  the 
resolution  even  of  the  boldest  heretic.  The  matter  did  not 
end  here.  On  the  occasion  of  a  sermon  in  St.  Peter's,  on 
the  subject  of  predestination,  Bolsec  ^vas  so  foolish  as  to 
step  forth,  and  take  up  the  argument  against  the  preacher, 
a  certain  John  de  St.  Andre.  Calvin  had  entered  the 
church  unobserved,  during  Bolsec's  address,  and  suddenly 
presenting  himself  before  the  heretic,  overwhelmed  him 
with  quotations  from  Scripture  and  Augustine.  Farel 
joined  in  the  discussion,  and  the  police  terminated  it  by 
apprehending  Bolsec  for  abuse  of  the  clergy  and  disturb- 
ance of  the  public  peace.  It  became  a  somewhat  serious 
question,  how  to  deal  with  so  daring  an  offender.  Nego- 
tiations were  entered  into  with  the  Bernese  and  French 
ministers  on  the  subject,  the  moderation  of  whose  coun- 
cils do  not  seem  to  have  been  particularly  pleasing  to  the 
reformer.  It  has  been  insinuated,  but  on  a  very  slender 
foundation,  that  he  would  not  have  been  disinclined  to 
proceed  to  the  last  extremity  against  one  so  hardened. 
There  was  no  warrant,  however,  for  any  extreme  proced- 
ure.    The  churches  all  advised  moderation  in  the  view  of 

1  Ep^s.  Bezel,  ed.  Hanov.,  1597,  p.  166. 


130         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

the  abstmseness  and  darkness  of  the  subject  of  contro- 
versy; and  Bolsec  was  merely  sentenced  to  banishment 
from  the  city  whose  doctrinal  quietude  he  had  disturbed. 
He  afterwards  revenged  himself,  in  a  somewhat  dastardly 
way,  by  writing  a  life  of  Calvin,  in  a  spirit  of  slanderous 
detraction  which  effectually  destroys  all  sympathy  with 
him,  or  interest  in  his  sufferings. 

The  Sacramentarian  controversies  with  Westphal  and 
Heshusius,  extend  to  the  very  close  of  Calvin's  hfe.  No 
feature  in  the  internal  history  of  the  Reformation  is  at 
once  more  painful  and  perplexing  than  that  which  is 
unfolded  in  these  controversies ;  the  subtlety,  and,  in  truth, 
unintelligibility,  of  the  distinctions  contended  for,  the 
sacredness  of  the  topic,  and  the  fierce  violence  of  the 
contention  —  all  make  a  picture  which  even  the  polemic 
theologian  of  modern  times  can  scarcely  delight  to  con- 
template, and  which  is  apt  to  inspire  the  historical  student 
with  mere  weariness  and  disgust.  We  have  already,  in 
our  former  sketch,  seen  with  what  vehemence  Luther 
maintained  his  ground  on  this  subject,  against  the  Swiss 
divines  at  Marburg.  He  never  got  reconciled  to  them, 
and  to  the  last  his  language  was  that  of  uncompromising 
and  disrespectftd  opposition  to  their  supposed  doctrine. 
Melancthon,  on  the  other  hand,  so  soon  as  he  was  brought 
into  personal  contact  with  Calvin,  especially  at  the  Diet 
of  Ratisbon,  began  to  ii^icline  to  his  opinion  of  the  Eucha- 
rist, which,  denying  the  reality  of  a  local  presence,  as 
asserted  by  the  Lutherans,  maintained  the  reality  of  a 
spiritual  presence  in  the  elements,  and  a  true  participation 
of  the  very  body  and  blood  of  Christ  hy  the  faithful. 
Through  the  influence  of  Calvin,  mainly,  an  agreement  or 
"consensus"  of  sacramental  doctrine  was  establislied  at 
Zurich,  in  the  close  of  1549.     It  was  fondly  hoped  that 


CALVIN.  131 

the  result  of  this  might  be  to  promote  a  general  harmony 
on  the  subject,  not  only  in  all  the  reformed  churches,  but, 
moreover,  between  them  and  the  Lutheran  Church,  or  at 
least  to  open  up  the  way  for  such  a  comprehensive  union. 
Never  was  hope  more  utterly  disappointed.  The  abated 
zeal  of  Luther,  as  the  sadness  of  those  last  years  was  fast 
bearing  him  to  the  grave,  was  taken  up  with  increased 
bitterness  and  a  yet  more  narrow  intolerance  by  some  of 
his  followers.  Without  the  excuse  of  those  traditionary 
associations  which  clung  to  his  great  mind,  and  from  which 
he  could  never  set  himself  free,  the  men  —  such  as  Flac- 
cius  and  Osiander,  on  the  one  hand,  and  Westphal  and 
Heshusius,  on  the  other  —  who  embraced  what  they  sup- 
posed to  be  the  strict  type  of  Lutheran  doctrine,  carried 
into  controversy  a  spirit  equally  violent  and  mean,  which 
at  once  hardened  the  excesses  of  the  reformer's  dogmatism, 
and  covered  it  with  the  contempt  of  their  own  weakness. 
There  is  not  anywhere  in  theological  history  a  set  of  rnen 
more  factious  in  spirit,  less  amiable  in  character,  or  even 
less  respectable  in  strength,  than  the  Lutheran  divines 
who  now  occupy  the  field,  and  darken  and  confuse  it  with 
their  polemic  din.  Well  might  Melancthon  say  that  "  he 
lived  as  in  a  wasp's  nest,"  and  pray  to  be  delivered  from 
the  "  rabies  theologorum."  They  embittered  his  last  mo- 
ments by  their  furious  and  unmeaning  contests,  and  made 
him  sigh  for  a  rest  above,  undisturbed  by  controversial 
clamor.  Well  might  Calvin  say,  "  Ah,  would  that  Luther 
were  still  alive  I  These  people  have  none  of  his  virtues; 
but  they  think  to  prove  themselves  his  disciples  by  their 
cries." 

Westphal,  a  pastor  at  Hamburg,  takes  his  rank  among 
the  most  violent  of  these  Lutheran  divines.  In  the  hands 
of  this  man,  the  sacramental  "concordat"  of  Zurich  be- 


132         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

came  a  nucleus  of  more  embittered  controversy  than  ever. 
Instead  of  "being  softened  to  concord"^  "by  that  temper- 
ate simphcity  of  doctrine,  he  seized  upon  the  very  name 
of  agreement  as  a  kind  of  furies'  torch  to  rekindle  the 
flame,"  —  aflame  which  continued  to  burn  in  the  Lutheran 
Church  till  it  ate  all  the  heart  of  Christian  life  out  of  it, 
and  which,  by  the  antagonistic  spirit  it  provoked,  became 
a  source  of  v/eakness  and  disgrace  to  the  Protestant  cause 
in  general.^  Calvin,  first  of  all,  replied  with  some  mild- 
ness to  this  "  foohsh  fellow,"  refusing  to  name  him,  or  to 
enter  into  personal  conflict  with  hiui.  But  when,  instead 
of  being  silenced,  "  he  flamed  forth  with  much  greater 
impetuosity,"  it  became  necessary,  he  says,  "  to  repress  his 
insolence  ; "  and  he  wrote  and  published,  with  incredible 
haste,  in  1556,  his  "  Second  Defence  of  the  Sacraments, 
in  Answer  to  the  Calumnies  of  Westphal."  The  heat  and 
rapidity  with  which  he  composed  this  treatise  maybe  held 
in  some  degree  to  excuse  the  vehemence  of  its  expres- 
sions, as  he  himself  urges  to  Bullinger.  Moreover,  the 
conduct  of  Westphal,  in  his  cruel  treatment  of  Jolni 
A'Lasco  and  a  company  of  reformed  brethren,  who,  having 
been  driven  from  England,  on  the  accession  of  Mary, 
sought  refuge  in  Denmark,  had  justly  kindled  the  keen 
sensitiveness  and  warm  feelings  which  Calvin  ever  showed 
towards  the  oppressed.  Yet,  making  every  allowance, 
it  must  be  admitted  that  here,  as  too  often,  Calvin  "  nn- 
swered  a  fool  according  to  his  folly."  Invective,  con- 
tempt, and  scorn  he  pours  upon  him  as  from  a  full  vial, 
overwhelming  him  at  once   v/ith  logic  and  abuse.      "  If 

'  Preface  to  Second  Defence  of  the  Sacraments. 

2  As  Calvin  himself  said,  "The  enemies  of  Jesus  Christ  are  delighted  at 
seeing  ns  fighting  together,  as  if  it  were  a  kind  of  cock-fight." — Preface  to 
" Exposition  of  Zurich  Consensus,"  1544. 


CALVIN.  133 

I  have  used,  in  some  cases,  too  strong  expressions,"  he 
says,  in  the  preface  addressed  to  "  all  honest  ministers  of 
Christ,"  "you  must  consider,  according  to  your  wisdom, 
how  he  has  goaded  me  to  this.  His  hook  appears  written 
with  no  other  ohject  than  that  of  casting  us  down  to  hell, 
and  overwhelming  us  with  curses.  What  could'  I  do 
otherwise  than  act  according  to  the  proverb,  *  The  bad  ass 
must  have  a  bad  driver,'  to  prevent  him  indulging  too 
complacently  in  his  savage  temper  ?  "  Westphal  retorted, 
complaining  that  Calvin  had  treated  him  worse  than  the 
Anabaptists,  Libertines,  and  Papists ;  and  Calvin  replied, 
in  a  "  last  admonition  to  Joachim  Westphal." 

In  the  meantime,  many  still  smaller  names  had  entered 
the  field  —  "petulant,  dishonest,  and  rabid  men,  as  if  they 
had  conspired  together"  to  make  the  reformer  "  the  special 
object  of  their  virulence"  —  "a  foul  apostate  of  the  name 
of  Staphylus,"  one  named  Nicolas  le  Coq,  and  lastly, 
Teleman  Heshusius;  and  finally,  in  one  more  publication,^ 
on  the  "  True  Partaking  of  the  Flesh  and  Blood  of  Christ," 
the  reformer  made  a  rejoinder  to  these  attacks.  His  old 
strength  is  not  abated,  but  there  is  mingling  with  traces  of 
the  former  violence  a  nobler  spirit  of  aspiration  for  peace 
from  the  ^veary  contentions  which  now,  in  1560,  were  fast 
w^earing  him  out.  This  gathers  around  the  name  of  Me- 
lancthon,  just  departed,  in  an  affectionate  and  touching 
appeal,  wherein  we  can  read  a  depth  of  tender  warmth 
amid  all  his  proud  and  flaming  zeal.  "  O  Philip  Melanc- 
thon,  for  I  appeal  to  thee  who  art  now  living  in  the  bosom 
of  God,  where  thou  waitest  for  us,  till  we  be  gathered 
toj^ether  ^vith  thee  to  a  holv  rest  I     A  hundred  times  hast 


1  Bcza,  accustomed  to  service  of  this  kind,  took  up  the  cause  when  his 
friend  dropped  it. 

12 


134    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

thou  said,  when,  wearied  with  labor  and  oppressed  with 
sadness,  thou  didst  lay  thyself  familiarly  on  my  breast, 
Would  that  I  could  die  on  this  breast  I '  Since  then  I 
have  a  thousand  times  wished  that  it  had  been  our  lot  to 
be  together." 

"Well  might  Calvin  he  weary  of  controversy  !  And  yet 
we  have  still  to  notice  the  two  most  memorable  struggles 
in  which  he  was  engaged,  viz.,  his  final  contest  with  the 
Libertines,  with  Amy  Perrin  at  their  head,  and  the  sad 
affair  of  Servetus. 

The  renewed  contest  with  the  Libertines  was  protracted 
during  a  long  period,  and  was,  beyond  doubt,  the  central 
contest  of  Calvin's  existence  —  waged  hand  to  hand,  and 
for  life  or  death,  through  many  strange  turns  and  changes. 
It  did  not  terminate  till  about  two  years  after  the  death  of 
Servetus  —  and  the  latter  event  is  in  some  degree  mixed 
up  with  it ;  but  it  will  be  more  convenient  to  complete  our 
view  of  it,  before  passing  to  consider  the  circumstances 
connected  with  the  trial  and  execution  of  Servetus.  It 
is  only  its  most  general  outline  that  we  can  trace  ;  and, 
indeed,  amid  the  confusion  in  which,  to  some  extent,  the 
subject  has  been  left  by  all  the  historians  of  Geneva,  as 
well  as  the  biographers  of  Calvin,  it  is  not  easy  to  describe 
the  various  influences  under  which  it  was  so  long  pro- 
longed, now  in  Calvin's  favor,  and  now  in  favor  of  his 
opponents,  while  yet  terminating  in  what  appears  a  con- 
temptible emeute,  leaving  Calvin  victor  of  the  field. 

Amy  Perrin  had  at  fh-st  been  a  friend  of  Calvin,  —  one 
of  those  who  solicited  his  return,  and  to  whom,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  reformer,  had  been  committed  the  prepa- 
ration of  the  ecclesiastical  ordinances.  Ambitious  himself, 
however,  and  united  to  a  family  both  the  male  and  female 
members   of  which   seem   to   have    cherished   a   natural 


CALVIN.  135 

dislike  to  the  reformer,  he  soon  began  to  chafe  under  the 
pride  and  rigor  of  the  Calvinistic  rule,  and  gradually 
attached  himself  to  the  mixed  liberal  party,  whose  prin- 
ciple of  fusion  was  mainly  hostility  to  Calvin.  Personal 
causes  served  to  embitter  the  animosity  —  scandals  too 
dark  and  wretched  for  ns  to  rake  from  their  forgotten 
hiding-places.  The  picture  which  the  Reformer  has  drawn 
of  the  whole  Favre  family  in  his  letters  is  colored  with  a 
grim  harshness,  and  vivid  with  touches  of  the  most  biting 
sarcasm.'  The  intensity  of  his  temper  —  sparing  no  folly, 
and  exposing,  with  a  kind  of  zest,  all  the  details  of  their 
disgrace  —  comes  out  strongly.  He  fixes  their  several 
featnres  by  some  ludicrous  or  opprobrious  epithet,  concen- 
trating at  once  his  scorn  and  their  absurdity  or  iJaseness. 
Speaking,  for  example,  of  a  marriage  in  the  family,  which 
had  been  conducted,  in  his  view,  with  a  flagrant  mockery 
of  religion,  and  the  consequences  of  which  were  deserv- 
edly humiliating,  he  writes  to  Viret:^  "Proserpine  (sup- 
posed to  be  wife  of  Francis  Favre,  the  head  of  the  family), 
the  day  before  they  received  the  spouse  with  such  honors, 
beat  the  mother-in-law  in  such  a  manner  that  she  bled 
profusely;  her  whole  countenance  was  disfigured  with 
wounds,  and  her  head  covered  with  dirt.  You  know  the 
old  woman's  temper ;  she  was  heard  through  the  whole 
street  calling  on  God  and  man  to  assist  her.  We  cited  her 
before  the  consistory,  but  she  escaped  to  her  sisters.  Pen- 
theselea  (Perrin's  -wife)  will  certainly  have  to  be  repri- 
manded stoutly ;  she  patronizes  the  worst  causes,  and 
defends  herself  furiously;  in  short,  her  very  word  and 
deed  betray  her  utter  want  of  modesty."  Another  mamage 
at  the  house  of  a  widow  was  celebrated  with  dancing,  at 

1  Ep.  Beza,  Es.  69. 


136         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATIO  IT. 

which  the  same  Pentheselea  had  distinguished  herself,  and 
the  opportunity  of  reprimanding  her  could  not  be  passed 
over.  She  seems,  however,  to  have  been  almost  a  match 
for  Calvin;  for,  according  to  his  own  confession,  she 
"  abused  him  roundly,"  while  he  answered  her  as  she 
deserved.  "  I  inquired,"  he  continues,  "  whether  their 
house  was  inviolably  sacred, — whether  it  owed  no  sub- 
jection to  the  laws  ?  We  already  detained  her  father  in 
in-ison,  being  convicted  of  one  act  of  adultery  ;  the  proof  of 
a  second  was  close  at  hand ;  there  ^vas  a  strong  rc'port  of  a 
third  ;  her  brother  had  openly  contemned  and  derided  the 
Senate  and  us.  Finally,"  I  added,  *'  that  if  they  were  not 
content  to  submit  to  us  here  under  the  yoke  of  Christ,  they 
must  build  another  city  for  themselves  ;  for  that  so  long  as 
they  remained  at  Geneva,  they  Avould  strive  in  vain  to 
elude  the  lavi^s,  and  that  if  each  person's  head  in  the  house 
of  Favre  wore  a  diadem,  it  should  not  prevent  the  Lord 
from  being  superior."  ^ 

All  this  occurred  at  an  earlj^  period  of  the  struggle  in 
1546.  The  execution,  in  the  year  following,  of  Gruet,  a 
leader  among  the  spiritual  Libertines,  whose  opinions  are 
represented  as  of  an  impious  and  flagrant  character,  in- 
creased the  bitterness  of  the  factions.  Calvin  stretched 
his  pov/er  to  the  utmost.  Slashed  breeches,  in  which  the 
young  Libertines  had  delighted  as  a  symbol  of  their  part}^ 
were  prohibited,  "  not  that  we  cared  about  the  thing  itself," 
he  says,  "but  because  we  saw  that,  through  the  chinks  of 
those  breeches,  a  door  would  be  opened  to  all  sorts  of  pro- 
fusion and  luxury."  The  Libertines,  in  their  turn,  carried 
their  license  to  the  extent  of  publicly  insulting  Calvin,  and 
threatening  to  cast  him  into  the  Rhone.     He  professed  to 

1  Letters,  vol.  ii.  p.  39. 


CALVIN 


137 


laugh  at  their  threats  as  only  "  the  froth  of  the  pride  of 
Moab,  whose  ferocity  must  at  length  fall  with  a  crash." 
Things  continued  in  this  state  through  various  alternations, 
Perrin  being  now  miprisoned,  with  his  wife  and  father-in- 
law,  and  now  again,  through  a  change  of  fortune,  not  only 
elevated  to  the  magistracy,  but  made  chief  syndic.  This 
took  place  in  1549,  and  Calvin  ridicules  unsparingly  his  at- 
tempts at  statesmanship,  calhng  him  now  the  "  Comic 
Caesar,"  and  the  "  Tragic  Csssar." 

The  execution  of  Servetus  in  1553,  gradually  drew  the 
contest  on  to  a  denouement.     The  deep  feeling  which  in 
various  quarters  was  excited  by  this  event,  and  the  vehe- 
mence with  which  it  was  directed  against  Calvin,  seemed 
to  encourage  the  Libertine  party  to  action.  One  Berthelier 
tried  to  wrest  from  the  consistory  its  right  of  excommuni- 
cation, and  to  force  admission  to  the  Lord's  Supper,  from 
which  he  had  been  excluded.     But  Calvin's  firmness  baf- 
fled him,  and  even  awed  Perrin.    In  the  beginning  of  1554, 
there  was  a  sudden  truce,  and  things  assumed  a  quieter 
look.     But  there  was  no  sincerity  of  reconciliation  on  either 
sidO;  and  the  contention  soon  broke  out  more  fiercely  than 
ever.     Calvin's  power  seemed  to  totter  in  his  hands.     He 
wrote  to  an  old  friend,  whose  name  is  not  given,  "  If  you 
knew  but  a  tenth  part  of  the  abuse  with  which  I  am 
wounded,  feelings  of  humanity  would  make  you  groan  at 
sufferings  to  which  I  am  myself  grown  callous.   Dogs  bark 
at  me  on  all  sides."     At  length,  in  1555,  the  crisis  came  — 
a  confused  and  disorderly  affair,  the  account  of  which  reads 
more  like  a  street  riot  than  anything  else.     Perrin  with  his 
fellow-leaders  Berthelier  and  Peter  Vandel,  had  probably 
planned  a  regular  rising  of  the  populace,  which  was  to  be 
directed  against  the  French  in  the  city,  for  the  cries  heard 
in  the  tumult  took  something  of  this  shape.     Their  own 

12* 


138    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

confusion,  however,  or  the  apathy  of  the  citizens,  con- 
verted it  into  a  ridiculous  faihu'e.  They  then  tried  to 
make  hght  of  the  afiair  ;  but  the  Council  of  Two  Hundred 
assembled,  and  took  a  very  different  view  of  it ;  and,  ap- 
prehensive for  their  safety,  the  agitators  fled  from  the  city. 
Sentence  was  pronounced  against  them  in  absence.  They 
were  condemned  to  lose  their  heads  and  be  quartered,  and 
special  tortures  were  to  be  inflicted  on  Perrin.  The  sen- 
tence was  executed  in  effigy ;  and  the  city  permanently 
delivered  from  commotion. 

Thus  terminated  the  long  struggle  with  the  Libertines,- 
in  which,  whatever  be  our  judgment  of  particular  points  of 
Calvin's  conduct,  we  must  admire  his  heroism,  and  more- 
over rejoice  in  his  triumph.  For  it  was  undoubtedly  the 
triumph  of  moral  order  against  a  liberalism  which,  resting 
on  no  basis  of  principle,  and  conserved  by  no  bonds  of 
moral  feehng,  must  have  speedily  dissolved  in  its  own  suc- 
cess, and  left  Geneva  a  sure  prey  to  internal  factions  and 
weakness.  As  it  was,  Geneva  became,  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  the  stern  cradle  of  liberty,  an  asylum  of  Protestant 
independence  against  the  gathering  storms  of  despotism 
on  all  sides.  Freedom  of  thought  and  action  were  indeed 
crushed,  for  the  time,  under  an  iron  sway  ;  but  in  behalf  of 
a  moral  spirit  which,  nursed  by  such  rough  discipline,  was 
to  grow  into  potency  till  it  became  more  than  a  match  for 
Jesuitical  state-craft  in  many  lands,  and  —  from  the  very 
limitations  of  its  infancy  —  only  expanded  into  higher  and 
healthier  forms  of  development. 

In  the  meantime,  it  must  be  confessed,  as  we  turn  to 
gaze  upon  the  picture  presented  to  us  in  the  trial  and  death 
of  Servetus,  it  is  difficult  to  trace  the  germs  of  liberty  in 
the  Genevan  theocracy.  "We  shall  not  attempt  to  enter 
into  the  endless  polemic  that  surrounds  this  affair.     The 


CALVIX.  139 

main  facts  are  palpable,  and  not  only  not  denied,  but 
gloried  in  by  Calvin  and  the  other  reformers  ;  for  they  all 
share  almost  equally  with  him  the  undying  disgrace  which, 
under  all  explanations,  must  forever  attach  to  the  event. 
The  vvrise  Bulhnger  defends  it,^  and  even  ihe  gentle 
Melancthon  could  only  see  cause  for  gratitude  in  the  hide- 
ous tragedy.  The  special  blame  of  Calvin  in  the  whole 
matter  is  very  much  dependent  upon  the  view  we  take  of 
his  previous  relation  to  the  accusation  and  trial  of  Servetus 
by  the  Inquisition  at  Vienne.  If  the  evidence,  of  which 
Dyer  has  made  the  most,  were  perfectly  conclusive,  that 
the  reformer,  through  a  creature  of  his  own  of  the  name 
of  Trie,  was  really  the  instigator  from  the  beginning  of 
the  proceedings  against  Servetus,  —  that  from  Geneva,  in 
short,  he  schemed  with  deep-laid  purpose  the  ruin  of  the 
latter,  who  was  then  quietly  prosecuting  his  profession  at 
Vienne,  —  and,  from  MSS.  that  had  privately  come  into 
his  possession,  furnished  the  Inquisition  with  evidence  of 
the  heretic's  opinions  ;  —  if  we  are  compelled  to  believe  all 
this,  then  the  atrocity  of  Calvin's  conduct  would  stand  un- 
relieved by  the  sympatliy  of  his  fellow-reformers,  and 
would  not  only  not  admit  of  defence,  but  would  present 
one  of  the  blackest  pictures  of  treachery  that  even  the  his- 
tory of  rehgion  discloses.  The  evidence  does  not  seem 
satisfactory,  although  it  is  not  without  certain  features  of 
suspicion.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  however,  that  Calvin 
v»^as  so  far  privy,  through  Trie,  to  the  proceedings  of  the  In- 
quisition, and  that  he  heartily  approved  of  them.  Nor  is 
there  further  any  reason  to  doubt  that  he  contemplated 
from  the  first  the  death  of  Servetus  as  a  stern  necessit}^ 
should  he  ever  come  to  Geneva,  as  he  had  offered  to  do. 

1  Oriyinal  Letters,  Parkes  Society,  part  ii.  p.  742. 


140    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFOEMATION. 

In  the  well-known  letter  on  the  subject,  which  is  not 
printed  in  Beza's  coUection,  but  has  since  been  pubhsbed, 
he  tells  Farel  that  he  was  unwilling  that  Servetus  should 
trust  to  him;  for,  he  adds,  "If  he  should  come,  and  my 
authority  be  of  any  avail,  I  will  never  suffer  him  to  depart 
alive."  1 

Having  escaped  from  Vienne,-  before  the  completion  of 

1  "  Sed  nolo  fidem  meam  interponere.  Nam  si  venerit,  modo  valeat  mea 
autlioritas,  vivura  exive  nnnquam  patiar." — Letters,  vol.  ii.  p.  19. 

2  Servetus  had  led  a  wandering  kind  of  life.  Born  in  1509,  the  same  year 
as  Calvin,  at  Villeneuve  in  Arragon,  he  had  passed  into  France;  and  in  this 
respect  too,  like  his  great  adversary,  had  first  devoted  himself  to  the  study 
of  the  civil  law  at  Toulouse.  He  appears  to  have  here  taken  to  the  study  of 
the  Scriptures,  and  imbibed  his  peculiar  notions  of  the  "Trinity.  Excited  by 
the  movement  of  the  Reformation,  he  set  out  for  Germany,  and  sought  inter- 
views with  (Ecolampadius  at  Basle,  and  Bucer  and  Capito  at  Strasburg. 
About  this  time,  viz.  in  1531,  he  prepared  and  published  his  first  book,  enti- 
tled De  Tnnitatis  Errovihus  Uhri  se2)tem.  In  the  following  year  he  published 
a  further  volume  on  the  same  subject,  Dlalogorum  de  Trinitate  llbri  duo,  in 
which  he  reviews,  and  to  some  extent  retracts,  his  previous  opinions  —  not  as 
false,  but  as  imperfect.  It  was  not  till  more  than  twenty  years  after  this 
that  his  more  elaborate  work,  which  formed  the  ostensible  ground  of  his  con- 
demnation, appeared  at  Vienne  anonymously,  under  the  title  of  Cliristianismi 
Restitutio.  In  the  interval,  he  had  corresponded  with  Calvin,  and  furnished 
him  with  various  statements  of  his  views,  and  even  offered  to  come  to 
Geneva. 

It  is  difficult  to  give  any  intelligible  account  of  his  peculiar  views.  While 
an  anti-Trinitarian,  he  cannot  be  regarded  in  a,ny  modern  sense  as  a  mere 
Humanitarian  or  Unitarian.  The  following  exposition  by  Emile  Saisset  {Re- 
vue des  Deux  Mondes,  Mars  1848)  may  interest,  but  can  scarcely  enlighten 
the  reader.  "  God,  indivisible  in  Himself,  divides  Himself  in  ideas ;  ideas 
divide  themselves  in  things.  God  is  the  absolute  unity  which  creates  all  — 
the  pure  essence  which  essentiates  all.  Essence  and  unity  descend  from 
God  to  ideas,  and  from  ideas  to  everything  else.  He  is  an  eternal  ocean  of 
existence,  of  which  ideas  are  the  currents  and  things  the  waves.  Ideas, 
regarded  in  their  entire  essence,  are  the  uncreated  light,  or  the  Word  of  God. 
So  they  all  emanate  from  one  general  and  superior  type,  which  is  the  type 
of  human  nature,  the  primitive  model  of  all  beings.  This  central  idea  in 
which  all  ideas  unite,  this  sun  of  the  world  of  ideas,  this  superior  and  primi- 


CALVIN.  141 

his  trial,  about  the  7th  of  April,  Servetus  is  found  in  Ge- 
neva about  four  months  later.  His  intention  appears  to 
have  been  to  proceed  to  Italy,  although  Calvin  rejiresents 
liim  as  having  come  from  Italy,  —  a  fact,  which  he  himself 
denied  in  the  coarse  of  his  examination.  In  any  case,  it 
seems  to  have  been  something  like  infatuation  on  the  part 
of  the  heretic  to  put  himself  in  the  way  of  Calvin,  of 
whose  disposition  towards  him  he  could  scarcely  be  igno- 
rant. The  reformer  seemed  to  recognize  a  sort  of  judicial 
blindness  in  his  conduct.  "  I  know  not  what  to  say  of 
him,"  he  remarked,  "  except  that  he  was  seized  by  a  fatal 
madness  to  precipitate  himself  on  destruction." 

It  is  a  deeply  pathetic  picture,  as  we  look  back  and  try 
to  realize  it,  —  that  of  the  homeless  and  persecuted  man 
entering  the  theocratic  city  on  foot  and  alone,  in  the  middle 
summer  of  1553,  taking  up  his  residence  in  a  small  inn  by 
the  side  of  the  lake,  and  entering  into  frank  and  humorous 
talk  with  his  host,  more  like  a  man  of  the  world  than  a 
speculative  enthusiast ;  and  finally,  after  he  had  dined, 
wandering  into  the  church  where  his  great  adversary  was 
preaching,  —  a  fatal  audacity,  which  led  to  his  discover}^ 
Some  one  recognized  and  immediately  reported  the  fact  to 
Calvin  ;  and  just  as  the  wanderer  had  made  his  arrange- 
ments to  leave  for  Zurich,  and  hired  a  boat  to  carry  him 
across  the  lake,  he  was  arrested,  and  conve^-ed  to  prison.^ 

tlve  type,  this  eternal  model  of  human  nature,  is  Christ;" — a  kind  of  German 
transcendentahsm  born  out  of  time,  rather  than  any  mere  phase  of  Trinita- 
rian heresy. 

>  These  are  the  undoubted  features  of  the  story.  The  particular  circum- 
stances and  dates  are  involved  in  some  obscurity.  The  common  statement, 
given  both  by  Henry  and  Dyer,  is  that  he  arrived  in  GciiCva  in  the  middle 
of  July,  and  remained  nearly  a  month  incognito.  Mr.  Gordon,  in  his  inge- 
nious, and,  upon  the  whole,  very  fair  pamphlet,  on  "  Calvin  and  Channing," 
London,  1854,  shows  }:h«it  there  is  good  reason  to  doubt  this.     The  point  is 


142         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

Calvin  takes  to  himself  all  the  merit  of  this  step,  and  the 
character  and  circumstances  of  the  trial  were  mainly 
arranged  by  him. 

The  particulars  are  full  of  interest.  At  first  a  young- 
man,^  Calvin's  secretary,  undertook  the  office  of  accuser, 
and  prepared  an  indictment  against  him  of  thirty-eight 
articles,  enumerating  various  forms  of  heresy  and  of  in- 
sulting offences  against  the  reformers,  and  especially  Cal- 
vin. It  was  found  that  the  young  champion  of  orthodoxy 
was  no  match  for  the  veteran  polemic  who  had  vexed  his 
brain  so  long  with  every  species  of  theological  subtlety ; 
and  Calvin  himself,  and  the  other  clergy,  then  entered  the 
lists  personally  against  him.  Encouraged,  probably,  by 
some  feeling  that  there  was  a  party  in  Geneva  prepared  to 
back  him,  Servetus  gave  way  at  first  to  great  insolence  of 
manner,  and  dared  his  adversaries  in  a  very  contemptuous 
way.  In  reference  to  some  charge  about  contradicting 
Moses'  account  of  the  Holy  Land,  in  his  notes  on  Ptolemy, 
which  he  considered  very  paltry,  he  wiped  his  mouth  and 
said,  "  Let  us  go  on," — a  proceeding  which  deeply  offended 
Calvin.  The  most  violent  and  abusive  language  was  used 
on  both  sides.    Servetus  addressed  the  reformer  as  a  "  piti- 

not  of  much  consequence,  but  the  shigle  contemporary  statement  quoted  by 
Mr.  Gordon,  and  to  which  we  have  ah'eady  referred,  is  quite  decisive  {"  Pos- 
tea  se  vincuh's  clam  elapsus  esset  venit  Genevam,  et  eodem  die,  videlicet 
Dorainico,  audivit  concionem  post  prandiura"),  while  neither  Henry  nor 
Dyer  furnish  any  evidence  for  the  story  of  the  incognito  during  a  month. 
As  to  Calvin's  statement  of  his  wanderings  in  Italy  for  four  months  (per  Ital- 
ian! erravit  fere  quatuor  menses),  which  would,  of  course,  carry  on  his  arrival 
in  Geneva  from  July  to  August,  I  do  not  think  that  much  can  be  made  of 
this,  as  Calvin  appears  to  have  been  in  error  about  his  visit  to  Italy  altogether. 
Upon  the  whole,  the  probability  is  against  the  story  of  the  incognito  for  a 
month,  or  for  any  considerable  time.  The  fact  whether  he  went  to  church, 
has  also  been  disputed.  —  See  Impartial  Eist.  of  Servetus,  p.  82, 
>  Nicolas  de  la  Fontaine. 


CALVIN.  143 

fill  wretch,"  a  "  disciple  of  Simon  Magus,"  a  "  liar,"  and 
even  a  "  murderer."  Calvin  retorted  on  him  as  an  "  ob- 
scene dog,"  and  "perfidious  villain,"  and  pubhcly  devoted 
him  to  eternal  fire.  The  trial,  nevertheless,  proceeded  in  a 
regular  and  formal  manner,  on  through  August  and  Sep- 
tember. The  advice  of  the  churches  of  Zurich  and  Berne 
was  asked,  while  the  unhappy  prisoner,  complaining  bit- 
terly of  the  hardships  of  his  confinement,^  begged  to  have 
his  case  appealed  from  the  ordinary  Council  to  that  of  the 
Two  Hundred.  In  this  Amy  Perrin  supported  him,  with 
the  view  more  of  turning  the  event  to  his  own  advantage, 
against  Calvin,  than  from  any  pity  to  the  heretic.  There 
is  no  evidence  that  the  reformer  urged  the  Council  to  any 
summary  violence,  or  that  his  influence  swayed  with  them, 
especially  in  the  judgment  to  which  they  came.  They 
seem  to  have  taken  the  course  of  proceedings  very  much 
into  their  own  hands.  But  there  is  just  as  little  doubt  of 
the  conclusion  to  which  Calvin's  advice  and  movements 
pointed  all  along,  and  —  confirmed  in  their  own  feelings  by 
his  authority,  and  that  of  Bullinger,  Farel,  and  others  — 
they  passed  sentence  on  Servetus  on  the  26th  of  October, 
condemning  him  to  death  by  fire.  To  do  Calvin  justice,  he 
appears  to  have  used  his  exertions  to  have  the  mode  of  the 
heretic's  death  alleviated,  but  without  success. 

On  the  very  next  morning  after  the  sentence  was  pro- 
nounced, Servetus  was  led  out  of  the  city  to  his  dreadful 
doom.  The  spot  where  he  suffered  is  an  extended  eminence 
of  the  nam^e  of  Chaupel,  —  about  two  miles  off',  —  from 
which  the  eye  can  trace  the  encircling  ridges  of  the  Jura, 

'  His  language  on  this  subject  is  very  pitiable,  and,  if  entirely  to  be  cred- 
ited, reflects  infinite  disgrace  on  his  persecutors.  "  Les  poulx  me  manqent 
tout  vif,  naes  chauses  soat  descirees,  et  nay  de  quoy  changer,  ni  perpoint  ni 
chamise,  que  une  mechante." — Impartial  History  of  Servetus^  p.  120. 


144         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

as  they  rise  like  frowning  battlements  around  the  scene, 
and  the  clear  A\^indings  of  the  Arve  as  it  pours  its  "  snow- 
gray  "  waters  into  the  bright  azure  stream  of  the  Rhone. - 
There  the  vrretched  man  was  fastened  to  a  stake,  sur- 
rounded by  heaps  of  oak  \vood  and  leaves,  with  his  con- 
demned book  and  the  MS.  he  had  sent  to  Calvin  attached 
to  his  girdle  ;  and,  while  Avith  choked  utterance  he  could 
only  say,  "  O  God  !  O  God  ! "  the  fire  was  kindled.  The 
\vood  was  green,  and  did  not  burn  readily.  Some  persons 
ran  and  fetched  dry  faggots,  while  his  piercing  shrieks  rent 
the  air;  and,  exclaiming  finally  (in  ■words  which,  ^vith  a 
strange  perversity,  have  been  su}iposed  to  indicate  his  per- 
sistence in  heresy  to  the  last),  "Jesus,  thou  Son  of  the 
eternal  God,  have  mercy  upon  me  !" — he  passed  from  the 
doom  of  earth  to  a  higher  and  fairer  tribunal. 

It  is  needless  to  indulge  in  reflective  commonplace  on 
this  memorable  crime.  To  the  reformers,  on  the  principles 
they  avowed  and  advocated,  it  scarcely  needed  any  apol- 
ogy. To  us,  looking  back  upon  it  from  this  point  of  time, 
it  can  receive  no  palliation,  and  they  are  but  poor  and  un- 
faithful sons  "of  Protestantism,  who  have  sought  for  a  mo- 
ment to  defend  it.  Whatever  apology  it  may  admit  of 
from  the  spirit  of  the  age,  and  the  supposed  (blasphemous) 
character  of  the  charge,  it  can  admit  of  no  apology  on  any 
intelligibly  Protestant  ground.  In  so  far  as  the  reformers 
were  concerned  in  it,  they  were  simply  untrue  to  their  own 
position,  and  ignorant  of  their  own  only  rational  weapon  of 
defence.  To  the  benefit  of  this  inconsistency  and  igno- 
rance they  are  entitled,  but  to  nothing  more.  The  act  must 
bear  its  own  doom  and  disgrace  forever;  and  if  it  stirs  the 
heart  more  with  pity  for  the  long  darkness  of  human  mis- 
take than  with  indignation  for  the  harshness  of  human 
cruelty,  this  may  be  a  less  scandalous,  but  it  is  scarcely  a 
less  mournful  view  of  the  m.atter. 


C  A  L  Y  I  N  .  I4t) 

After  the  expulsion  of  the  Libertines  in  1555,  Calvin's 
power  in  Geneva  was  thoroughly  consolidated.  He  had 
still  his  controversies,  indeed,  with  Westphal  and  others, 
but  the  life -and- death  struggle  at  his  door  had  ceased,  and 
none  any  more  sought  to  question  his  supremacy  as  the 
master-spirit  and  governor  of  the  city.  Beza  —  a  lively, 
meddlesome,  serviceable,  but  by  no  means  a  great  man  — 
became  his  active  coadjutor  in  the  last  years  of  his  life, 
and  in  his  faithful  reverence  for  his  m.aster's  traditions,  and 
ardent  and  affectionate  admiration  of  his  genius,  was  a 
man  after  Calvin's  own  heart.  The  great  struggle  that 
was  proceeding  in  France  during  these  years,  between  the 
hierarchical  party,  with  the  Guises  at  their  head,  and  the 
Protestants  led  by  Conde  and  Coligny,  deeply  interested 
both.  In  the  somewhat  unintelligible  conspiracy  of  Am- 
boise,  in  1560,  the  aim  of  which  was  to  wrest  the  power 
from  the  hands  of  the  Guises  and  bring  them  to  trial,  Cal- 
vin was  supposed  to  have  been  implicated.  He  has  hira' 
self  confessed  that  he  knew  about  it,  but  that  he  disap- 
proved of  it,  and  did  all  he  could  to  hinder  its  execution. 
This  is  a  more  hkely  version  of  the  fact,  for  Calvin's  polit- 
ical opinions  were  never  of  an  active  and  violent  character. 
He  had  no  love  for  political  revolution  of  any  kind,  and 
was  not  likely  to  have  advised  it. 

About  1561,  Calvin's  long-continued  bad  health  greatly 
increased.  Abstemious  to  an  unnatural  degree,  and  over- 
wrought by  his  many  labors,  he  was,  towards  the  close  of 
this  year,  seized  with  gout.  Unable  to  walk,  he  was  trans- 
ported to  church  in  a  chair  to  continue  his  preaching,  from 
which  he  would  not  desist.  His  sufferings  became  aggra- 
vated during  the  next  three  years.  Not  one  but  numerous 
disorders,  bred  by  his  unhealthy  habits  of  study,  laid  waste 
Ijis  frame.  On  the  6th  of  February,  1564,  he  preached  his 
13 


146         LEADERS     OF     THE    REFORMATION. 

last  sermon.  He  was  henceforth  only  able,  when  carried 
occasionally  to  church,  to  say  a  few  words  to  the  people. 
He  is  said  to  have  been  very  uncomplaining, — only  the 
cry  "would  sometimes  come  from  him,  "  Ho"w  long,  O  Lord?" 
On  the  2d  April,  Easter-day,  he  was  for  the  last  time  car- 
ried to  church,  and  received  the  sacrament  from  the  hands 
of  Beza;  but  after  this  was  still  able  to  address  a  long 
discourse  to  the  members  of  the  council  who  came  to  his 
house.  On  the  28th  he  received  the  clergy,  and  boldly  en- 
couraged them  to  persevere  in  the  great  work  which  he 
had  begun.  Farel,  himself  tottering  to  the  grave,  came 
from  Nenfchatel  to  visit  him,^  and  the  old  fellow-laborers, 
after  one  more  conference,  parted  to  meet  only  in  a  less 
disturbed  state  of  existence.  He  lingered  on  during  May, 
and  had  even  another  meeting  of  the  clergy  in  his  house. 
Then,  on  the  27th  of  the  month,  as  summer  was  flushing 
over  those  bright  scenes  amidst  which  he  had  lived  un- 
touched by  their  beauty,  he  peacefully  fell  asleep.  Beza 
had  quitted  him  only  for  a  moment,  and  on  his  return  the 
reformer  lay  calm  in  death.  "  At  the  same  time  with  the 
setting,  sun,'"'  says  his  admiring  friend,  "  was  this  great 
luminary  withdrawn." 

He  was  buried  without  ostentation,  but  amidst  the  pro- 


1  Farel  was  now  in  his  eightieth  year,  audjn  very  feeble  health.  He  sent 
beforehand  intimation  of  his  visit ;  and  the  brief  letter  in  which  Calvin  sought 
to  dissuade  him  from  his  intention,  the  last  probably  he  ever  wrote,  is  very 
touching  :  —  "Farewell,  my  best  and  most  right-hearted  brother,  and  since 
God  is  pleased  that  you  should  survive  me  in  this  world,  live  mindful  of  our 
friendship,  of  which,  as  it  was  useful  to  the  church  of  God,  the  fruit  still 
awaits  us  in  heaven.  I  would  not  have  you  fatigue  yourself  on  my  account. 
I  draw  my  breath  with  difficulty,  and  am  daily  waiting  till  I  altogether  cease 
to  breathe.  It  is  enough  that  to  Christ  I  live  and  die ;  to  His  people  He  is 
gain  in  life  and  death.  Farewell  again,  not  forgetting  the  brethren.  At  Ge- 
neva, 11th  May,  1564."— Beza,  Vita  Calv. 


CALVIN.  147 

found  regret  of  the  citizens,  in  the  common  cemetery  of 
Plein  Palais  outside  of  the  city,  on  the  banks  of  the  Ehone. 
He  had  especially  enjoined  that  no  nonument  should  mark 
liis  resting-place.  His  severe  simplicity  turned  away  from 
all  such  honors.  His  biographer^  accordingly  says  that  his 
grave  continues  unknown.  In  point  of  fact,  however,  a 
plain  stone,  with  the  letters  "  J.  C."  upon  it,  is  now  pointed 
out  to  the  stranger  as  marking  it,  although,  on  what  author- 
ity we  do  not  know.  Whether  his  remains  lie  in  that  par- 
ticular spot,  or  elsewhere,  the  simple  and  rude  stone,  as 
the  meditative  visitant  stands  beside  it  and  looks  round 
upon  many  imposing  tablets  raised  over  comparatively  un- 
memorable  dust,  seems  no  unfitting  memorial  of  the  man 
—  starting  by  its  very  nakedness  associations  all  the  more 
sublime. 

Thus  lived  and  died  Calvin  —  a  great,  intense,  and  ener- 
getic character,  who,  more  than  any  other  even  of  that 
great  age,  has  left  his  impress  upon  the  history  of  Protest- 
antism. Nothing,  perhaps,  more  strikes  us  than  the  con- 
trast between  the  single  naked  energy  which  his  character 
presents,  and  of  which  his  name  has  become  symbohcal, 
and  the  grand  issues  which  have  gone  forth  from  it. 
Scarcely  anywhere  else  can  we  trace  such  an  imperious 
potency  of  intellectual  and  moral  influence  emanating  from 
so  narrow  a  centre. 

There  is  in  almost  every  respect  a  singular  dissimilarity 
between  the  Genevan  and  the  Wittenberg  reformer.  In 
personal,  moral,  and  intellectual  features,  they  stand  con- 
trasted,—  Luther  with  his  massive  frame  and  full,  big  face, 
and  deep  melancholy  eyes ;   Calvin,  of  moderate  stature, 

'  Henuy. 


148         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

pale  and  dark  complexion,  and  sparkling  eyes,  that  burned 
nearly  to  the  moment  of  his  death.^  Luther,  fond  and 
jovial,  relishing  his  beer  and  hearty  family  repasts  with  his 
wife  and  children ;  Calvin,  spare  and  frugal,  for  many 
years  ouly  taking  one  meal  a  day,  and  scarcely  needing 
sleep.^  In  the  one,  we  see  a  rich  and  complex  and  buoy- 
ant and  affectionate  nature,  touching  humanity  at  every 
point;  in  the  other,  a  stern  and  grave  unity  of  moral 
feature.  Both  were  naturally  of  a  somewhat  proud  and 
imperious  temper,  but  the  violence  of  Luther  is  warm  and 
boisterous,  that  of  Calvin  is  keen  and  zealous.  It  might 
have  been  a  very  uncomfortable  thing,  as  Melancthon 
felt,'^  to  be  exposed  to  Luther's  occasional  storms ;  but,  after 
the  storm  was  over,  it  was  pleasant  to  be  folded  once  more 
to  the  great  heart  that  was  sorry  for  its  excesses.  To  be 
the  object  of  Calvin's  dislike  and  anger,  was  something  to 
fill  one  with  dread,  not  only  for  the  mom.ent,  but  long  after- 
wards, and  at  a  distance,  as  poor  Castelho  felt  when  he 
gathered  the  pieces  of  drift-wood  on  the  banks  of  the 
Rhine  at  Basle. 

In  intellect,  as  in  personal  features,  the  one  was  grand, 
massive,  and  powerful,  through  depth  and  comprehension 
of  feeling,  a  profound  but  exaggerated  insight,  and  a  soar- 
ing eloquence  ;  the  other  was  no  less  grand  and  powerful, 
through  clearness  and  correctness  of  judgment,  rigor  and 
consistency  of  reasoning,  and  "  weightiness  "  of  expression. 
Both  ai*e  alike  memorable  in  the  service  which  they  ren- 
dered to  their  native  tongue,  in  the  increased  compass  and 
more  flexible  and  felicitous  mastery  which  they  imparted 

1  Beza,  Calv.  Vita.  2  ibij^ 

3  See  note,  Calvin's  Letters,  vol.  i,  p.  409,  and  the  expression  quoted  by 
Hallara  from  Epis.  Melancthon,  p,  21  —  of  the  harshness  of  which,  however, 
too  much  must  not  be  made.  —  Lit.  of  Europe,  vol.  i,  p.  492. 


CALVIN.  149 

to  it.  The  Latin  works  of  Calvin  are  greatly  superior  in 
elegance  of  style,  symmetry  of  method,  and  proportionate 
vigor  of  argument ;  he  maintains  an  academic  elevation  of 
tone  even  amidst  the  vehement  impulses  which  animate 
him,  while  Luther,  as  Mi'.  Hallam  has  it,  sometimes  de- 
scends to  mere  "bellowing  in  bad  Latin."  Yet  there  is  a 
coldness  in  the  elevation  of  Calvin,  and  in  his  correct  and 
well-balanced  sentences,  for  which  we  should  like  ill  to 
exchange  the  kindling  though  rugged  paradoxes  of  Luther. 
The  German  had  the  more  rich  and  teeming,  the  Genevan 
the  harder,  more  serviceable,  and  enduring  mind.  When 
interrupted  in  dictating  for  several  hours,  Beza  tells  us  that 
he  could  return  and  commence  at  once  where  he  had  left 
off;  and  that,  amidst  all  the  multiplicity  of  his  engagements, 
he  never  forgot  what  he  required  to  know  for  the  perform- 
ance of  any  duty. 

As  preachers,  Calvin  seems  to  have  commanded  a 
scarcely  less  powerful  success  than  Luther,  although  of 
a  different  character, — the  one  stimulating  and  rousing, 
"boiling  over  in  every  direction  ;"  the  other,  instructive  and 
enlightening,  filling  the  minds  of  his  hearers  with  weighty 
sentiments.^  Luther  flashed  forth  his  feelings  at  the  mo- 
ment, never  being  able  to  compose  what  might  be  called  a 
regular  sermon,  but  seizing  the  principal  subject,  and  turn- 
ing all  his  attention  to  that  alone.  Calvin  was  elaborate 
and  careful  in  his  sermons,  as  in  everything  else.  The  one 
thundered  and  lightened,  filling  the  souls  of  his  hearers 
now  with  shadowy  awe,  and  now  with  an  intense  glow  of 
spiritual  excitement;^  the  other,  like  the  broad  daylight, 

'  Beza,  Vita  Calv. 

2  The  desci'iption  which  Beza  has  given  of  Farel's  preaching  seems  to  indi- 
cate a  resemblance  in  tliis  as  in  other  respects  between  the  fiery  Dauphinese 
and  the  great  German.  "  Farel,"  he  says,  "  excelled  in  a  certain  sublimity 
13* 


150    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

filled  them  with  a  more  clifFasive  though  less  exhilarating 
clearness. 

Altogether,  it  is  sufficiently  easy  to  fix  the  varying  char- 
acteristics, however  difficult  it  may  be  to  measure  the 
relative  greatness  of  the  two  chief  reformers  :  moral  and 
intellectual  power  assumes  in  the  one  an  intense,  concen- 
trated, and  severe  outline ;  in  the  other,  a  broad,  irregular, 
and  massive,  yet  child-like  expression.  The  one  may  sug- 
gest a  Doric  column,  chaste,  grand,  and  sublime  in  the  very 
simplicity  and  inflexibility  of  its  mouldings  ;  the  other,  a 
Gothic  dome,  with  its  fertile  contrasts  and  ample  space, 
here  shadowy  in  lurking  gloom,  and  there  riant  in  spots  of 
sunshine,  filled  through  all  its  amplitude  with  a  dim,  relig- 
ious awe,  and  yet,  as  we  leisurely  pause  and  survey  it, 
traced  here  and  there  with  grotesque  and  capricious  im- 
agery, —  the  riotous  freaks,  as  it  were,  of  a  strength  which 
could  be  at  once  lofty  and  low,  spiritually  grand,  yet  with 
marks  of  its  earth-birth  everywhere. 

Simplicity  is,  beyond  doubt,  the  main  feature  of  Calvin's 
character;  yet  it  is  not  the  simplicity  of  nature,  but  of  an 
even  and  orderly  spiritual  development.  Earnest  from  the 
first,  looking  upon  life  as  a  great  and  stern  reality,  a  hard 
yet  noble  discipline,  his  moral  purpose  is  everywhere  clear 
and  definite  —  to  live  a  life  of  duty,  to  shape  circum- 
stances to  such  divine  ends  as  he  apprehended,  and  in 
whatever  sphere  he  might  be  placed  to  Vv'ork  out  the  glory 
of  God.  Protestantism  changed  the  direction  of  his  efforts, 

of  mind,  so  that  nobody  could  eithex'  hear  his  thunders  without  trembling, 
or  listen  to  his  most  fervent  prayers  without  feeling  as  it  were  almost  carried 
up  to  heaven,"  He  adds,  "  Viret  possessed  such  winning  eloquence  that  his 
entranced  audience  hung  upon  his  lips.  Calvin  never  spoke  without  filling 
the  mind  of  the  hearer  with  most  weighty  sentiments.  I  have  often  thought 
that  a  preacher  compounded  of  the  three  would  have  been  absolutely  per- 
fect."—FeVa  Calv. 


CALVIN.  151 

but  probably  very  little  the  principle  of  them.  As  Roman- 
ist or  Protestant,  he  must  have  equally  led  a  life  of  intense 
devotion  and  spiritual  work.  For  there  were  no  elements 
of  lawless  affection  in  him,  no  excesses  of  youthful  passion, 
and,  moreover,  no  impulses  of  mere  selfish  desire  that 
could  have  ever  drawn  him  aside  to  the  service  of  the 
flesh  or  the  world.  He  was  naturally  fitted  as  well  as 
divinely  trained  for  the  special  work  which  he  had  to  do. 
He  found  his  career,  or  rather  it  found  him,  with  a  singular 
felicity,  amid  the  exciting  strifes  into  which  he  was  born. 
Before  his  arrival  in  Geneva,  he  appeared  very  much  the 
mere  scholar  and  theologian.  Intellectual  study  seemed 
not  unlikely  to  divert  and  absorb  his  energies.  But  so  soon 
as  he  settled  there,  his  great  practical  and  administrative 
qualities  were  dra^vn  forth,  and  intellectual  interest  became 
henceforth  subservient  to  that  which  he  felt  to  be  his  pecu- 
liar mission,  —  the  reorganization  of  the  divine  kingdom  in 
the  world,  as  he  saw  and  believed  in  it. 

Combined  with  this  strict  simplicity  of  aim  in  Calvin 
there  is  a  wonderful  grandeur  of  endurance  and  power. 
Nowhere  lovely,  he  is  everywhere  strong.  Strength  looks 
upon  us  with  a  naked  glance  from  every  feature  of  his  life 
and  work.  He  is  stern  and  arbitrary  and  cruel,  when  it 
suits  him,  but  never  weak.  He  seldom  mistakes,  and  as 
seldom  fails.  Confident  in  his  own  conclusions,  and  inflex- 
ible in  his  resolutions,  he  never  goes  back  upon  his  practi- 
cal policy,  nor  upon  his  theological  views,^  for  revisal  or 
modification,  but  always  forward  in  expansive  and  consist- 
ent development.  There  is  no  wavering  and  no  scruples 
in  him.     In  all  his  pained  and  worn  countenance  you  can- 

1  Beza  has  noticed  this,  Vita  Calv.     "  In  the  doctrine  which  he  delivered 
at  the  first,  he  persisted  steadily  to  the  last,  scarcely  making  any  change." 


OF     THE    REFORMATION. 

not  trace  a  quivering  of  feebleness,  scarce  a  spark  of  sen- 
sitiveness, only  tlie  forward  and  steady  gaze  of  resolved 
and  imperious  duty,  whatever  it-  might  cost  him. 

■  As  to  the  more  social  aspects  of  his  character,  it  becomes 
a  very  difficult  task  to  be  at  once  just  and  critical.  On  the 
one  hand,  even  in  the  face  of  his  acknowledged  harshness 
in  many  cases,  it  is  impossible  to  adopt  the  representations 
of  some,  and  regard  him  as  destitute  of  all  warmth  of  af- 
fection. Many  of  his  letters,  on  the  contrary,  are  marked 
by  an  affectionate  interest,  which,  if  not  very  warm  or 
tender,  is  yet  considerate  and  kindly.  Then  his  relations 
with  Farel,  and  Viret,  and  Bucer,  and  still  more  Melanc- 
thoD,  from  whom  in  many  points  he  differed,  sufficiently 
show  that  there  was  something  in  liim  lovable  and  capable 
of  love,  fitted  both  to  engage  sincere  and  deep  regard,  and 
to  respond  with  an  affectionate  faithfulness  to  the  friendly 
emotions  which  he  excited.  "We  have  seen  how  his  weary 
spirit  clung  to  that  of  Melancthon,  removed  beyond  the  con- 
tentions of  theological  strife  ;  and  there  is  something  pecu- 
Harly  affecting  in  his  long  and  sometimes  very  trying  and 
delicate  relations  with  Farel,  consummated  by  that  last 
kind  and  tender  memorial  which  he  sent  him  from  his 
death-bed.  On  the  other  hand,  it  appears  to  us  a  misinter- 
pretation of  character  altogether  to  read  these  tokens  of 
friendly  sympathy  as  being  what  have. been  called  "the 
overflowings  of  a  heart  filled  with  the  deepest  and  most 
acute  sensibility."^  Overflomng  of  any  kind  is  exactly 
■what  you  never  find  in  Calvin,  even  in  his  most  famihar 
letters.  His  strongest  expressions  of  affection  are  always 
calm  and  measured.  When  he  condoles  with  Vhet  and 
Kiiox,  for  example,  on  the  death  of  their  wives,  there  is  no 

1  Preface  to  Leiltrs —  Constable. 


CALVIN.  153 

im})uisive  trembling  or  sensitive  fulness  in  his  tones,  but 
only  a  becoming  and  reguhited  expression  of  grief  ^  Then 
it  cannot  be  forgotten  that  there  are  some  of  his  letters 
fiill  of  lierce  expressions  of  hatred  and  anger,  which  one 
can  only  read  now  with  pity  and  sorrow.-  Affectionate  and 
even  hearty  to  his  friends,  let  us  admit  him  to  have  been, 
and  capable  of  unbending  so  far  as  to  play  with  the  syndics 
at  the  game  of  the  key  (whatever  that  may  have  been),  on 
a  quiet  evening ;  but  Calvin  Avas  certainly  not  in  the  least 
a  man  of  genial  and  overflowing  sensibility.  His  temper 
was  repressive  and  not  expansive,  concentrated  and  not 
sympathetic,  and  his  heart  burned  more  keenl}^  with  the 
fires  of  polemic  indignation,  than  it  ever  glowed  Vvnth  the 
warmth  of  kindly  or  tender  emotion. 

There  are  noAvhere  in  all  his  letters  any  joyous  or 
pathetic  exaggerations  of  sentiment  —  any  of  that  play  of 
feeling  or  of  language  which  in  Luther's  letters  make  us 
so  love  the  man.  All  this  he  would  have  thought  mere 
waste  of  breath  —  mere  idleness,  for  which  he  had  no 
time.  The  intensity  of  his  purpose,  the  solemnity  of  his 
work,  prevented  him  from  ever  looking  around  or  relaxing 
himself  in  a  free,  happy,  and  outgoing  communion  vWth 
nature  or  life.  Living  as  he  did  amid  the  most  divine 
aspects  of  nature,  you  could  not  tell  from  his  correspond- 
ence that  they  ever  touched  liim  —  that  morning  with  its 
golden  glories,  or  evening  with  its  softened  splendors,  as 
day  rose  and  set  amid  such  transporting  scenes,  ever  in- 
spired him.    The  murmuring  rush  of  the  Khone,  the  frown- 

1  His  words  to  Knox,  quoted  by  M'Crie,  are  :  "  Viduitas  tua  mini  id  debet, 
tristis  et  acerba  est.  Uxorem  nactus  eras  cui  non  reperiuntur  passim  simi- 
les." His  letters  to  Viret  indicate  perhaps  more  ■warmth  of  feeling  (vol.  ii. 
p.  22—24). 

2  See  especially  a  brief  letter  to  Madame  de  Cany,  vol.  ii.  p.  323. 


lo-i         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

iiig  outlines  of  the  Jura,  the  snowy  grandeur  of  Mont 
Eianc,  might  as  well  not  have  been,  for  all  that  they 
seemed  to  have  affected  him.  No  vestige  of  poetical  feel- 
ing, no  touch  of  descriptive  color,  ever  rewards  the  patient 
reader.  All  that  exquisitely  conscious  sympathy  with  na- 
ture, and  wavering  responsiveness  to  its  unuttered  lessons, 
Avhich  brighten  with  an  ever-recurring'  freshness  the  long- 
pages  of  Luther's  letters,  and  which  have  wi'ought  them- 
selves as  a  very  common-place  into  modern  literature,  is 
unknown,  and  would  have  been  unintelligible  to  him.  And 
no  less  all  that  fertile  interest  in  life  merely  for  its  own 
sake  —  its  own  joys  and  sorrows  —  brightness  and  sadness  ; 
the  mystery,  pathos,  tenderness,  and  exuberance  of  mere 
human  affection,  which  enrich  the  character  of  the  great 
German  —  there  is  nothing  of  all  this  in  Calvin  ;  no  such 
yearning  or  sentimental  aspirations  ever  touched  him. 
Luther,  in  all  things  greater  as  a  man,  is  infinitely  greater 
here.  And  in  truth  this  element  of  modern  feeling  and 
culture  is  Teutonic  rather  than  Celtic  in  its  growth.  It 
springs  out  of  the  comparatively  rich  and  genial  soil  of  the 
Saxon  mind,  —  deeper  in  its  sensibilities,  and  more  exuber- 
ant in  its  products. 

On  the  whole,  simplicity,  grandeur,  and  consistency  of 
purpose  mark  out  Calvin  from  his  fellows,  and  constitute 
the  main  elements  of  his  greatness  and  influence.  The 
same  kind  of  consistency  which  we  shall  meet  with  in  his 
system  appears  in  his  character  —  a  consistency  not  of 
manifold  adaptation,  but  of  stern  comprehension.  As  the 
complexities  of  Christian  doctrine  in  his  theology  are  not 
merely  evolved  and  laid  side  by  side,  but  crushed  into  a 
unity,  so  his  life  is  unique  and  symmetrical  at  the  expense 
of  richness  and  interest,  and  a  whole  and  hearty  humanity. 
Both  can  alone  be  truly  judged  in  reference  to  the  exigen- 


CALVIN.  155 

cies  amidst  which  they  were  prepared  and  the  work  that 
they  accompHslied.  Human  progress  needed  both  of  them 
assuredly,  aUIiough  it  is  a  melancholy  and  saddening  re- 
flection that  it  did  so.  It  was  a  hard  and  bad  world  that 
needed  Calvin  as  a  reformer.  And  when  we  think  of  the 
Institutes  in  comparison  with  the  Gospels,  we  cannot  help 
acknowledging  how  far  man  was  then,  alas  !  is  still,  below 
his  blessings  —  how  infinitely  higher  is  the  reach  of  divine 
truth  than  the  response  of  human  desire,  or  any  capacity  of 
human  understanding. 

An  impression  of  majesty,  and  yet  of  sadness,  must  ever 
hnger  around  the  name  of  Calvin.  He  was  great,  and  we 
admire  him.  The  world  needed  him,  and  we  honor  him  ; 
but  we  cannot  love  him.  He  repels  our  affections  while 
he  extorts  our  admiration ;  and  while  we  recognize  the 
worth,  and  the  divine  necessity,  of  his  life  and  work,  we 
are  thankful  to  survey  them  at  a  distance,  and  to  believe 
that  there  are  also  other  modes  of  divinity  governing  the 
world,  and  advancing  the  kingdom  of  righteousness  and 
truth. 

According  to  what  we  have  already  said,  the  great  di?- 
tinction  of  Calvin,  as  we  see  him  appearing  within  the 
sphere  of  the  Reformation,  is  that  in  him  the  movement 
found  its  genius  of  order.  He  is  from  the  outset  of  his 
career  not  at  all,  like  Luther,  the  head  of  an  onward  strug- 
gle, but  the  representative  of  a  new  organization  of  the 
disturbing  forces,  spiritual  and  social,  that  were  spreading 
all  around  in  France  and  Switzerland.  While,  therefore, 
Luther  is  characteristically  the  hero,  he  is  characteristically 
the  legislator.  He  feels  that  the  insurrectionary  move- 
ment, which  has  been  proceeding  vigorously  and  fiercely 
for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  needs  a  guide  —  some  one,  not 


156         LEADERS     OE     THE     REFORMATION. 

indeed  to  beat  back  and  check  it,  but  to  rein  it  in/  to  im- 
press upon  it  a  definite  constitution,  and  to  bring  it  under 
discipline.  Unless  some  such  one  should  arise,  the  move- 
ment seemed  hkely  to  spend  itself,  on  the  one  hand,  in 
the  most  extravagant  forms  of  social  disturbance,  through 
the  spread  of  Anabaptism  and  other  forms  of  pseudo- 
Christian  Communism;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  in  intellect- 
ual unbelief,  like  that  of  Servetus  and  others.  With  a 
view  to  what  seemed  the  probable  development  of  such 
tendencies,  Calvin  was  just  as  much  the  master  of  the 
occasion  as  Luther  was  of  a  very  different  occasion :  or, 
to  speak  in  other  language,  the  instrumentality  of  Divine 
Providence  was  manifested  equally  in  the  rise  of  the  Gen- 
evan as  in  that  of  the  German  reformer.  The  elements 
of  religions  thought  and  social  liberty  let  loose  by  Luther, 
and  within  more  limited  spheres  by  Zwingle  and  Far  el,  and 
which  required,  as  eminently  in  the  case  of  Luther  they 
found,  an  heroic  impulsion  of  character  and  a  strength  of 
popular  and  enthusiastic  zeal  to  represent  and  carry  them 
forward  to  triumph,  —  now  in  1536  demanded  the  influence 
of  a  quite  different  character,  and  a  strength  of  intellectual 
and  moral,  rather  than  of  popular  earnestness  — an  aristo- 
cratic, in  short,  rather  than  a  democratic  power,  to  direct 
and  control  them. 

Calvin  was  the  impersonation  of  this  spirit  of  order  in 
the  surging  movement  of  the  sixteenth  century.  He  was 
so  in  two^dstinct  and  important  respects,  closely  connected 
v/ith  one  another,  but  separately  so  important  that  it  is  dif- 
ficult to  say  in  which  point  of  view  he  appears  most  as  a 
genius  and  m_aster.    He  was  so,  first,  as  the  great  theologian 

«  This  is  the  very  light  in  which,  Beza  tells  us,  he  himself  saw  his  work. 
"  He  saw  liow  needful  bridles  were  to  be  put  in  the  jaws  of  the  Gcncrcbe." 


CALVIN.  157 

of  the  Reformation ;  and  secondly,  as  the  founder  of  a  nciv 
religion  and  social  organization,  —  a  neiv  order  of  church 
jJoJity,  —  which  did  more  than  anything  else  to  consolidate  ^ 
the  dissipating  forces  of  Protestantism,  and  to  oppose,  if 
not  a  trinmphant,  yet  an  effectual  front  to  the  okl  Cathohc 
organization,  now  beginning  to  gather  life  again  after  its 
first  rude  shocks.  His  influence  in  both  these  respects  not 
only  survived  himself,  but  from  the  small  centre  of  Geneva 
was  propagated  through  France  and  Holland  and  Scotland, 
and  to  a  large  extent  England,  in  a  manner  which,  as  we 
look  back  upon  it,  exalts  him  to  the  highest  rank  of  great 
minds,  who,  by  the  concentration  and  intensity  of  their 
thought  and  will,  have  ever  swayed  the  destinies  of  their 
race.  Limited,  as  compared  with  Luther,  in  his  personal 
influence,  apparently  less  the  man  of  the  hour  in  a  great 
crisis  of  human  progress,  he  towers  far  above  Luther  in 
the  general  influence  over  the  world  of  thought  and  the 
course  of  history,  which  a  mighty  intellect,  inflexible  in  its 
convictions  and  constructive  in  its  genius,  never  fails  to 
exercise. 

In  briefly  speaking  of  Calvin  as  a  theologian,  we  shall 
not  attempt  to  enter  into  any  details  of  his  religious  opin- 
ions. This  Avould  be  altogether  foreign  to  the  purpose  of 
these  sketches.  We  shall  only  try  to  seize  the  spirit  and 
general  character  of  his  dogmatic  system,  as  they  serve  to 
explain  his  historical  position,  and  as  they  came  in  contact 
with  the  spiritual  tendencies  then  most  active,  not  only  in 
France,  but  in  other  countries. 

When  Calvin  turned  his  keen  glance  upon  the  spiritual 
atmosphere  around  him,  which  he  was  born  into  at  its  full 
stir  rather  than  produced,  he  saw  at  once  the  necessity,  not 
so  much  of  charging  it  with  any  new  impulses,  as  of  in- 
troducing  clearness,  intelligibihty,  and   arrangement  into 

14 


158         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORJIATION. 

those  already  in  operation.  This  was  the  task  that  he 
essayed;  and  he  brought  to  this  task  no  new  s]iirit  or 
principles,  but  simply  learning,  faith,  and  vigor  of  mental 
conception.  Novelty  of  purpose  or  of  doctrine  was  as  far 
as  possible  from  his  thought.  The  famous  preface  of  the 
Institutes  is  mainly  a  powerful  protest  against  any  such 
view.  What  he  really  contemplated,  and  what  he  accom- 
plished in  the  Institutes,  first  in  a  comparatively  slight,  and 
then  in  a  more  elaborate  and  definite  form,  was  to  recon- 
struct, on  a  professed  biblical  basis,  those  doctrinal  ideas 
which,  disengaged  from  the  old  Catholic  tradition  by  the 
powerful  preaching  of  the  earlier  reformers,  had  not  yet 
assumed,  at  least  to  the  Gallic  mind,  any  consistent  ex- 
pression. The  primitive  Christian  character  of  these  ideas 
is  the  great  point  which  he  tries  to  force  upon  the  attention 
of  Francis  I.,  in  view  of  the  calumnies  which  the  enemies 
of  the  Reformation  had  widely  spread  abroad.  Novelty,  or 
even  originality  in  doctrinal  conception,  would  have  been 
repelled  by  him  as  a  shamefol  accusation,  and  in  fact  was 
so,  when,  under  the  misrepresentation  of  Caroli  and  others, 
he  was  accused  of  Arianism.  Nothing  in  his  early  career 
moved  him  more,  or  gave  him  more  pain.  In  the  very  face 
of  all  such  views,  it  was  his  single  aim  to  set  anew  in 
a  Scriptural  framework  the  old  truth  —  to  rebuild  in  its 
purity  and  completeness  the  old  dogmatic  edifice  which 
had  been  overlaid  and  disfigured  by  the  corruptions  of 
Popery. 

It  arose  from  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  that  this  could 
only  be  done  in  the  abstract  and  systematic  spirit  in  which 
he  attempted  it.  It  was  necessary  to  meet  system  with 
system,  theory  by  theory.  The  old  Catholic  tradition,  not- 
withstanding all  that  happened,  and  the  vigorous  rents  that 
had  been  made  in  it  by  the  attacks  of  the  reformers,  had  a 


CALVIN.  159 

power  not  merely  of  resistance,  but  of  successful  reaction 
to  the  '-■  new  "  opinions,  in  the  mere  coherence  and  appa- 
rent unity  ^vhich  it  seemed  to  present  in  contrast  with  the 
latter,  so  long  as  these  could  at  all  be  regarded  as  the  mere 
opinions  of  individual  teachers.  To  show,  in  a  systematic 
method,  that  they  could  not  rightly  be  so  regarded,  but  that 
they  were  in  reality  the  revival  of  the  primitive  Christian 
teaching,  —  to  raise  thus  a  coherent  front  of  Scriptural  dog- 
matism in  opposition  to  the  old  ecclesiastical  dogmatism, 
and  thereby  at  once  save  the  principles  of  the  Preforma- 
tion from  hcense,  and  strengthen  and  consolidate  them 
against  Popery,  —  such  was  Calvin's  great  work  as  a  theo- 
logian.^ 

In  an  historical  point  of  view  we  cannot  think  that  any 
will  deny  the  distinguished  success  with  which  he  accom- 
plished this  work.  Never  did  man,  perhaps,  more  truly 
measure  his  powers  to  the  exact  task  for  which  they  were 
fitted,  and  then  bring  them  to  bear  with  a  more  steady  and 
adequate  energy  upon  the  achievement  of  that  task.  Seiz- 
ing with  a  powerfal  and  comprehensive  grasp  the  whole 
scheme  of  Christian  doctrine,  he  analyzed  and  exhibited 
it,  step  by  step,  in  all  its  parts,  and  set  it  forth  in  an  order 
most  imposing  and  effective.  Melancthon  had  previously 
systematized  the  reformed  tenets,  but  without  the  same 
confident  grasp  and  mastery  of  logic.  The  German  theo- 
logian possessed  a  more  delicate  perception,  and  a  more 
subtle  insight  into  many  points ;  but  this  very  fineness  of 
spiritual  texture  unfitted  him  for  the  more  bold  and  compact 
dogma^tic  handiwork  that  was  then  required:  it  gave  in- 
decision and  apparent  feebleness  to  many  of  his  views. 
Calvin  did  not  even  know  the  meaning  of  dogmatic  inde- 

*  See  his  own  description  of  his  design,  in  his  address  to  the  reader  from 
the  edition  of  1559  —  Tholuck's  edit.,  p.  24. 


160         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

cision.  His  intellectaal  penetration  and  directliess  over- 
matched all  scruples  and  doubts,  and  enabled  him  at  almost 
every  point  to  maintain  a  firm  footing  —  to  show  his  read- 
ers, as  he  himself  says,  "  how  to  pursue  and  hold  v/ithout 
wandering  the  good  and  right  way."  And  this  mere 
strength  of  intellectual  consistency,  traversing  the  whole 
ground  of  Christian  truth,  —  mapping  it  out,  and  arranging 
it  territory  to  territory,  so  as  to  present  a  great  whole, — was 
the  primary,  as  it  was  among  the  most  powerful,  means  of 
giving  to  his  work  the  influence  which  it  secured  ;  it  met  ^^o 
exactly  one  of  the  most  urgent  wants  of  the  Reformation. 
When  we  bring  into  view  the  prominent  Scriptural 
ground  on  which  this  consistency  was  made  to  rest,  we 
recognize  a  further  important  element  of  Calvin's  success. 
It  was  not  merely  the  coherence  of  a  great  logical  method 
which  was  presented  in  the  Institutes,  but  the  method 
seemed  to  identify  itself  at  every  point  with  Scripture,  and 
appropriately  express  its  truth.  "  He  who  makes  himself 
master  of  the  method  which  I  have  pursued,"  he  sa^^s, 
"  will  surely  understand  what  he  should  seek  for  in  Scrip- 
ture." The  logical  framework,  in  all  its  well-ordered  parts, 
was  clothed  with  the  living  garment  of  the  Divine  Word. 
Even  now  it  is  diflicult  to  disentangle  the  two  ;  for  Calvin, 
with  all  the  theologians  of  his  century,  and  of  the  succeed- 
ing century  as  well,  does  not  quote  Scripture  merely  in 
support  of  his  view,  so  that  3^ou  can  see  the  view  distinctly, 
and  then  the  Scriptural  warrant  for  it,  but  he  everywhere 
blends  undistinguishably  his  own  reasoning  and  Scripture, 
so  that  it  is  often  very  diflicult  indeed  to  say  where  you 
have  the  human  reasoner,  and  where  the  Divine  Teacher. 
He  applies  biblical  language,  moreover,  as  all  his  compeers 
did,  with  comparatively  little  regard  to  its  historical  con- 
nection, taking  a  statement  at  random  from  any  book  of 


CALVIN.  161 

• 

the  Old,  or  'from  any  book  of  the  New  Testament,  as  bear- 
ing with  equally  conclusive  force  upon  his  argument.  The 
result  of  this  is  to  exhibit  the  outline  of  his  system  as  rep- 
resenting, in  all  its  successive  evolutions,  a  strikingly 
Scriptural  aspect.  The  argument  at  every  point,  even  in 
the  first  book,  "  De  Pvecognitione  Dei  Creatoris,"  takes  up 
Scriptural  phrase,  and  drapes  itself  in  it  as  a  sure  vesture 
fitted  to  it  closely,  and  with  great  skill.  This  prominence 
of  biblical  statement,  worked  into  every  phase  of  his  dog- 
matic scheme,  and  disguising  its  mere  abstract  propositions, 
constituted,  and  constitutes  to  this  day  with  many  minds, 
the  greatest  success  of  Calvin's  work.  The  philosopher 
seems  hidden  in  the  divine,  the  dogmatist  in  the  scrij^turist. 
But  it  was  a  still  farther  characteristic  of  Calvin's  system 
that  may  be  said  to  have  completed  its  triumph.  He  not 
merely  apprehended  the  Christian  scheme  as  a  whole,  and 
set  it  forth  with  the  rare  logical  and  Scriptural  consistency 
we  have  described,  but  he  apprehended  it  with  clear  and 
firm  vision,  in  the  view  of  a  great  central  truth,  which  shed 
light,  darkened  indeed,  but  intense  in  its  very  darkness,  upon 
all  its  relations.  The  great  moving-spring  of  the  Reforma- 
tion, we  formerly  saw,  was  the  principle  of  individual  relig- 
ion —  the  assertion  of  the  immediate  relation  of  the  soul  to 
God  expressed  in  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  alone. 
Calvin  seized  this  great  truth  with  the  same  clearness,  if  not 
with  the  same  intensity,  as  Luther.  He  saw  with  an  equal 
force  that  God  is  the  only  source  of  all  good  in  man,  —  that 
human  righteousness  can  only  spring  out  of  the  free  act  and 
communication  of  the  Divine  grace,  and  that  therefore  the 
supposed  merit  of  any  human  work,  even  of  the  noblest 
piety,  as  recognized  by  the  Catholic  tradition,  was  a  mere 
delusion,  ensnaring  to  the  soul.  He  laid  down  this  as  a 
distinctive  article  of  faith  with  his  usual  lucidity  and  coher- 

14# 


162    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORM  ATION. 

ence,  bringing  out  the  Scriptural  proportions  of  his  own 
view  against  what  he  considered  to  be  the  perversion  of  an 
eminent  Lutheran  teacher,  Osiander.  ^  But  beyond  this 
special  aspect  of  the  principle  of  the  free  and  immediate 
relation  of  the  soul  to  God  in  the  doctrine  of  Justification, 
Calvin  saw  a  still  higher  and  more  comprehensive  aspect 
of  it  in  the  doctrine  of  Predestination.  If  there  be  no  veil 
between  the  soul  and  God,  so  that  the  former  finds  all  its 
life  and  righteousness  only  in  the  latter,  —  the  human  in 
the  Divine  Personality,  —  it  is  but  a  mere  step  from  this  to 
apprehend  the  Divine  Being  as  not  only  freely  but  sever- . 
eignly,  "of  his  mere  good  pleasure,"  bestowing  life  and 
righteousness.  Not  only  is  justification  of  God  alone,  but 
an  act  of  the  Divine  sovereignty,  definite,  immutable, 
irrefragable,  has  determined  from  all  eternity  the  objects 
of  justification.  Only  then  do  we  fully  recognize  free 
grace  in  all  its  grandeur,  when  we  recognize  it  in  this 
shape  as  the  eternal  election  of  God  —  when  we  acknowl- 
edge the  Divine  act  of  clemency :  and  not  merely  so,  but, 
moreover,  the  Divine  act  of  reprol;ation,  as  eternally  con- 
summated in  certain  persons  without  any  reference  to  their 
conduct.  The  whole  of  human  life  and  of  human  history, 
the  good  and  evil  that  are  in  them,  are  gathered  up  by 
Calvin  into  a  single  point  in  the  abyss  of  eternity,  from 
which  all  their  complicated  threads  go  forth  in  a  double 
series  of  undeviating  demarcation.  The  Divine  is  appre- 
hended not  only  on  its  positive  but  on  its  negative  side,  as 
working  out  not  only  a  progressive  kingdom  of  righteous- 
ness, but  also  a  retrogressive  kingdom  of  evil,  and  in  each 
case  equally  for  its  own  glory.  And  this  moral  dualism  is 
applied  with  a  fearless  and  untrembling  band.     It  is  in  no 

Third  Book,  chap.  xi. 


CALVIN.  163 

sense  a  mere  theory,  the  mere  blank  category  of  a  tran- 
scendental philosophy,  but  a  living  principle,  which  he 
brings  to  bear  without  flhiching  upon  all  the  mysteries  of 
human  existence.  He  confesses,  indeed,  that  it  is  a  "  hor- 
rible decree;"^  but  its  clear  and  undeniable  proof  seems 
to  him  to  lie  in  the  simple  statement  which  follows  up  this 
confession :  "  God  must  have  foreseen  the  special  destiny 
of  each  individual  before  he  created  him,  and.  he  only 
foresaw  this  as  having  ordained  it."^  This  was  the  highest 
triumph  of  his  system.  Even  a  logic  such  as  Calvin's 
could  go  no  farther  than  this. 

In  what  degree  this  confident  audacity  in  carrying  out 
the  great  principle  of  the  Reformation  helped  to  give  per- 
mance  to  its  general  doctrines,  and  to  make  them  dominant 
not  only  over  the  learned  but  over  the  popular  minds  that 
came  witliin  its  sway,  is  a  question  far  too  wide  and  im- 
portant to  take  np  here.  But  none  can  doubt,  looking 
merely  at  the  most  obvious  facts,  that  it  had  a  very  power- 
ful influence,  not  only  in  virtue  of  its  own  logical  vigor, 
and  the  craving  there  then  was,  in  all  minds  astir  upon 
religions  truth,  for  some  great  theory  or  absolute  idea  into 
which  to  fit  and  harmonize  their  floating  conceptions  ;  but 
especially  in  virtue  of  the  profound  spiritual  instinct  out  of 
which  the  theory  sprang,  and  which  it  long  continued  and 
even  continues  to  express  to  many  deeply  religious  minds. 
The  feeling  of  direct  and  devout  dependence  upon  God, — 
of  tracing  all  to  him,  and  finding  all  in  him,  —  of  emptying 
the  creaturely  will  wholly  in  the  Creative  will,  —  of  bend- 
ing low  before  the  Majesty  of  heaven,  and  rejoicing  that 

'  "  Decretum  quidem  horribile  fateor."  —  Third  Book,  chap,  xxiii, 

2  Infeciari  tamen  nemo  poterit  quia  prajsciveret  Deus,  quem  exitum  esset 

habiturus  homo,  antiquam  esse  conderit  et  ideo  pra3scivent,  quia  decreto  sue 

sic  ordonavit. 


1::4         LEADERS     OF     THE     R  E  F  0  F.  M  A  T  I  0  X  . 

our  veiy  weakness  and  misery  are  its  strengtli  and  glory, 
—  this  deep  instinct  of  hnmility  appeared  to  many  merely 
sublimed  in  the  doctrine  of  Predestination,  and  apart  from 
its  own  argumentative  consistency  and  hardihood,  it  thus 
carried  \vith  it  the  energy  and  triumph  of  a  loft}'  spirit- 
uality. 

As  we  look  back,  therefore,  upon  tliis  great  system  in 
conjunction  with  the  spirit  not  only  of  the  century  which 
produced  it,  but  of  that  whicli  followed,  we  can  well  un- 
derstand the  success  with  which  it  maintained  its  ground, 
and  the  conquest  which  it  won  against  rival  systems. 
Viewed  as  systems,  as  exhaustive  logical  generahzations 
of  Christian  truth,  Calvinism  is  the  natural  victor  of  Ai- 
minianism  in  this  very  thorouglmess  and  higher  consistency 
of  system  which  it  presents ;  in  its  greater  Scriptural  ear- 
nestness, and  in  the  superior  boldness  and  directness  with 
which  it  carried  out  the  great  fundamental  principle  of  tlie 
Keformation.  Arminianism  —  no  less  infected  than  Cal- 
\rinism  by  a  mere  logical  zeal,  having  no  more  than  the 
latter  any  apprehension  of  a  higher  method  than  that  of 
argumentative  definition  even  in  the  highest  region  of 
spiritual  truth  —  yet  paltered  and  sophisticated  in  its  logic 
everywhere.  It  had  neither  the  courage  to  lay  aside  logic 
and  confess  its  weakness,  nor  yet  the  vigoi  to  carry  it  out. 
And  so  it  patched  at  every  point,  and  covered  the  last 
mystery,  into  which  Calvinism  rushed  with  daring  footing, 
with  its  thin  glosses,  —  glosses  so  feebly  transparent  now 
when  we  examine  them,  that  it  seems  strange  they  should 
have  ever  satisfied  any  minds,  and  least  of  all  minds  of 
such  acuteness  as  some  of  those  that  professed  to  rest  on 
them. 

The  higher  Scriptural  congruit}^  of  Calvinism  was  espe- 
cially apparent  on  the  merely  dogmatical  principle  of  inter- 


C  A  L  V  I  X  . 


1G5 


pretation  llien  common.  It  miiTored  far  more  profoundly 
the  spiritual  depths  of  the  epistles,  and  took  up  more 
naturally  and  directly  the  great  key-notes  of  their  language. 
It  ^vas  more  trne,  in  short,  as  a  whole,  to  the  vast  and 
shadowy  outhnes  of  thought  which  meet  us  ever^^where 
on  the  surface  of  Scripture,  and  especially  concentrate 
themselves  in  certain  deep  utterances  of  the  letters  of  St. 
Paul,  over  which  criticism  has  long  hung  vrith  a  puzzled 
stare. 

While  thus  claiming  for  Calvinism  a  higher  Scriptural 
character,  it  would  yet  be  too  much  to  say  that  Calvinism, 
any  more  than  Lutheranism,  or  latterly  Ai-minianism,  was 
primarily  the  result  of  a  fresh  and  \iving  study  of  Scrip- 
ture. Calvin,  no  doubt,  vrent  to  Scripture.  He  is  the 
greatest  bibhcal  commentator,  as  he  is  the  greatest  bibhcal 
dogmatist,  of  his  age ;  but  liis  dogmas,  for  the  most  part, 
were  not  primarily  suggested  by  Scripture ;  and  as  to  his 
distinguishing  dogma,  this  is  eminently  the  case.  Like 
Luther,  he  had  been  tramed  in  the  scholastic  philosophy, 
and  been  fed  on  Augustine  ;  and  it  was  no  more  possible 
for  the  one  than  for  the  other  to  get  beyond  the  scholastic 
spirit  or  the  Augustinian  doctrine.  An  attentive  study  of 
the  Institutes  reveals  the  presence  of  Augustine  every- 
where ;  and  great  even  as  Calvin  is  in  exegesis,  his  exe- 
gesis is  mainly  controlled  by  Augustinian  dogmatic  theory. 
As  to  the  question  of  predestination,  —  so  apt  to  be  origin- 
ally identified  with  his  name  in  theology, —  Cahin  is  not 
merely  indebted  to  Augustine,  but  he  verbaUy  reproduces 
him  at  great  length ;  and  it  is  a  favorite  plan  with  him, 
when  hard  pushed  by  the  dilemmas  which  his  own  acute - 
ness  or  the  representations  of  opponents  suggest,  to  retreat 
behind  the  arguments  of  his  great  prototype,  and  to  sup- 
pose himself  strong  within  the  cover  of  assertions  not  less 


166         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

Startling  and  inadmissible,  tliougli  more  venerable  than  his 
own.  In  fixing-  anew,  therefore,  this  keystone  in  the 
Christian  arch,  he  was  merely  repeating,  even  more  prom- 
inently than  elsewhere,  an  old  work  ;  and  strangely  enough, 
as  is  so  often  the  case  in  ail  such  reactions,  the  chief 
weapon  which  he  employed  against  the  degraded  scholas- 
ticism of  his  day,  was  tempered  in  the  very  forge  wliich  it 
was  meant  to  extinguish. 

This  appeal  to  an  earlier  Catholicity  on  the  part  of  the 
Reformed  theologies  — this  support  in  Augustine — beyond 
doabt  greatly  contributed  to  their  success  in  their  day.  For 
few  then  ventured  to  doubt  the  authority  of  Augustinian- 
ism,  and  the  theological  spirit  of  the  sixteenth  century 
hardly  at  any  point  got  beyond  it.  It  was  a  natural  source 
of  triumph  to  the  great  Protestant  confessions  against  the 
unsettled  unbehef  or  more  superficial  theologies  which 
they  encountered,  that  they  wielded  so  bold  and  consistent 
a  weapon  of  logic,  and  appealed  so  largely  to  an  autiiorita- 
tive  Scriptural  interpretation.  Calvinism  could  not  hut 
triumph  on  any  sach  modes  of  reasoning  or  of  bibhcal  ex- 
egesis as  then  prevailed  ;  and  so  long  as  it  continued  to  be 
merely  a  question  of  systems,  and  logic  had  it  all  its  way, 
this  triumph  was  secure.  But,  now  that  the  question  is 
changed,  and  logic  is  no  longer  mistress  of  the  field  ;  now, 
when  a  spirit  of  interpreting  Scripture,  which  could  have 
hardly  been  intelligible  to  Calvin,  generally  asserts  itself, 
—  a  spirit  which  recognizes  a  progress  in  Scripture  itself — 
a  diverse  literature  and  moral  groAvth  in  its  component  ele- 
ments, —  and  which,  at  once  looking  backward  with  rever- 
ence, and  forward  with  faith,  has  learned  a  new  audacity, 
or  a  new  modesty,  as  we  shall  call  it,  according  to  our  pre- 
dilections ;  and  while  it  accepts  v/ith  awe  the  mysteries  of 
life  and  of  death,  refuses  to  submit  them  arbitrarily  to  the 


C  A  L  Y  I  N  .  167 

dictation  of  any  mere  logical  iirinciple ;  now  that  the 
whole  sphere  of  religious  credence  is  differently  appre- 
hended, and  the  provinces  of  fliith  and  of  logical  deduction 
are  recognized  as  not  merely  incommensurate,  but  as  radi- 
cally distinguished,  —  the  whole  case  as  to  the  triumphant 
position  of  Calvinism,  or,  indeed,  any  other  theological  sys- 
tem, is  altered.  An  able  writer  in  our  day/  has  shov/n 
with  convincing  power  what  are  the  inevitably  contradic- 
tory results  of  carrying  the  reasoning  faculty  with  deter- 
mining sway  into  the  department  of  religious  truth.  The 
conclusions  of  that  writer,  sufficiently  crushing  as  directed 
by  him  against  all  rationahstic  systems,  are  to  the  full  as 
conclusive  against  the  comjjetency  of  all  theological  sys- 
tems whatever.  The  weapon  of  logical  destructiveness 
which  he  has  used  with  such  energy,  is  a  weapon  of 
offence  really  agaiust  all  religious  dogmatism.  What 
between  the  torture  of  criticism,  and  the  slow  but  sure  ad- 
vance of  moral  idea,  this  dogmatism  is  losing  all  hold  of 
the  most  living  and  earnest  intelligence  everywhere.  And 
it  seems  no  longer  possible,  under  any  new  polemic  form, 
to  revive  it.  Men  are  weary  of  heterodoxy  and  of  ortho- 
doxy alike,  and  of  the  former  in  any  arbitrary  and  dogmatic 
shape,  still  more  intolerably  than  the  latter.  The  old  In- 
stitutio  Christianoi  Religionis  no  longer  satisfies,  and  a  new 
Institutio  can  never  replace  it.  A  second  Calvin  in  theology 
is  impossible.  Men  thirst  not  less  for  spiritual  truth,  but 
they  no  longer  believe  in  the  capacity  of  system  to  em- 
brace and  contain  that  truth,  as  in  a  reservoir,  for  su.cces- 
sive  generations.  They  must  seek  for  it  themselves  afresh 
in  the  pages  of  Scripture  and  the  ever-dawning  hght  of 
spiritual  life,  or  they  will  simply  neglect  and  put  it  past  as 

'  Mansel  in  his  Bamjiton  Lectures. 


168         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

ail  old  Story.  It  may  be  a  melancholy  condition  to  have 
come  to ;  but  to  deny  that  it  is  an  existent  and  continually 
more  prevailing  condition,  is  simply  to  shut  our  eyes,  and 
then,  because  ice  cannot  see,  to  fancy  that  the  world  is 
blind. 

In  the  endless  conflict  of  systems,  and  the  mutual 
destructiveness  of  their  o})posing  principles,  there  is  a 
lesson  to  be  learned,  but  it  does  not  seem  to  be  exactly  the 
lesson  which  the  Bampton  lecturer  draws.  The  uncer- 
tainty of  reason  in  all  religious  matters,  and  the  contradie- 
toriness  of  its  vaulting  theories,  should  teach  us  a  greater 
trust  in  revelation,  but  a  trust  in  it  in  its  simplicity  and  the 
gathered  unity  of  its  sacred  spirit,  rather  than  in  any  com- 
placently assumed  traditfonary  meaning.  If  the  intellect 
be  a  helpless  arbiter  in  religious  questions,  and  everywhere 
starts  more  difficulties  than  it  suggests  solutions,  our  appeal 
must  be  to  Scripture,  and  we  thank  God  for  it ;  but  to 
Scripture  not  according  to  any  arbitrarily  asserted  idea  and 
meaning,  but  in  its  variety  and  fulness,  in  its  historical  re- 
lations and  critical  and  literary  conditions, — to  the  Divine 
Spirit,  in  short,  that  speaks  in  Scripture  under  the  neces- 
sary limitations  of  human  language,  and  a  progressive 
development  of  moral  thought.^ 

1  It  appears  to  me  singular,  I  confess,  that  a  writer  of  the  acutcness  and 
power  of  Mr.  Mansel,  should  find  any  satisfaction  in  the  positions  which  he 
has  laid  down  in  his  last  Lecture.  The  views  there  propounded  of  the  over- 
bearing authority  of  what  he  calls  moral  miracles,  and  of  the  absolute  dog- 
matic virtue  of  all  parts  of  Scripture  alike,  supposing  the  student  to  have 
satisfied  himself  on  the  subject  of  the  external  evidences,  seem  alike  unten- 
able and  destructive,  —  ignoring,  as  they  do,  the  most  obvious  conditions  of 
historical  criticism,  and  by  leaving  the  individual  judgment  helpless  before 
confessed  difficulties,  simply  casting  it  into  the  ai'ms  of  the  first  authority, 
dogmatic  or  Catholic,  to  which  it  may  incline.  The  very  idea  of  a  moral 
miracle  is  a  preconception  of  the  worst  kind,  and  could  only  be  reluctantly 


CALVIN.  16  a 

We  have  still  to  consider  Calvin  in  what  appears  to  us 
his  most  creative  capacity,  as  an  ecclesiastical  legislator ; 
and  in  order  to  do  this,  we  must  understand  yet  more  fully 
the  historical  necessities  of  his  position,  and  of  the  Refor- 
mation as  represented  by  liim. 

After  the  first  spiritual  impulse  of  the  Reformation  had 
spent  itself,  great  difficulties  and  dangers  arose  on  all  sides. 
Not  only  did  the  unsettled  elements  of  Christian  doctrine 
require  a  master-mind  to  mould  and  reconstruct  them  into 
an  authoritative  shape,  but  the  same  process  of  recon- 
struction was  still  more  urgently  demanded  in  the  sphere 
of  social  life.  With  the  overthrow  of  the  old  Cat4io]ic 
-polity  and  discipline,  there  was  left  a  great  opening  for 
moral  laxity,  and  the  dissohition  of  the  bonds  of  society. 
Corrnpt  as  that  polity  was  in  its  deeper  springs,  it  had  yet 
remained  a  highly  conservative  machinery  of  social  and 
national  existence.  Intolerable  in  its  unspirituality  and 
oppressiveness,  it  operated  as.  a  vast  social  and  political 
agency,  touching  life  everywhere,  and  binding  it  together 
in  all  its  relations.  Gradually  it  had  grown  to  this.  Augus- 
tine's grand  idea  of  a  civitas  Dei  —  of  a  Divine  common- 
wealth—  had  developed  itself  till  it  covered  the  whole  of 
the  >vestern  world,  and  not  merely  placed  itself  in  contact 


admitted  after  the  application  of  every  fair  principle  of  interpretation  still 
left  a  demand  for  it;  and  Mr.  Mansel  cannot  be  ignorant  that  there  are  many- 
Christian  critics  who  would  not  allow  that  any  such  demand  is  left.  Accord- 
ing to  any  adequate  historical  idea  of  Scripture,  it  is  about  the  last  thing  one 
^Yould  wish  to  be  obliged  to  do,  to  defend  the  Bible  on  any  grounds  or  pre- 
sumptions of  moral  miracle. 

Mr.  Mansel's  notions  of  regulative  moral,  as  well  as  reguladve  specuhidve 
ideas,  seem  an  excess  of  the  Kantian  principle,  neither  likely  to  be  fruitful  in 
ethics  nor  useful  in  exegetics.  The  ability  and  eloquence  of  the  Bampton 
Lectures  I  admire,  with  many  others;  but  I  heartily  wish  that  thc}'  had  been 
sometimes  less  clever,  and  more  helpful  to  the  student. 

15 


ITO         LEADERS     or    THE    REFORMATION. 

with  human  activity  at  every  point,  but  directly  held  within 
its  embrace  all  the  intricacies  of  personal,  family,  and  na- 
tional relation.  Starting  as  the  most  individual  of  all 
reHgions,  and  seizing,  by  its  primary  influence,  not  on 
man's  outward  condition,  but  on  his  deepest  inward  sensi- 
bilities, Christianity  had,  with  the  decay  of  the  old  Koman 
Empire,  taken  its  place,  and  become  a  religion  in  the 
strictest  sense  —  a  great  system  of  political  as  well  as  moral 
government.  Slowly  pushing  its  way  in  conflict  with  the 
immoralities  of  paganism,  and  the  spurious  ethics  alike  of 
Gnostical  and  Epicurean  philosophy,  it  at  length  permeated 
and  pverflowed  all  aspects  of  human  feeling  and  interest 
throughout  the  western  nations,  mastered  and  moved 
them,  and  ultimately,  by  a  sure  process  of  development, 
took  them  all  under  its  definite  and  careful  protection. 
Thus  Christianity  grew  into  the  church,  spiritual  individ- 
ualism into  Cathohc  traditionahsm.  Augustine  stood  on 
the  verge  of  this  great  change,  recognized  it,  gloried  in  it, 
and  by  his  great  work  helped  to  forward  it. 

This  second  phase  of  Christianity  had  now  worked  itself 
out.  The  radical  Christian  spirit  was  not  and  could  not  be 
extinguished  under  all  the  compression  of  the  Catholic 
system ;  and  it  had  now,  after  many  partial  and  inefl^ectual 
efforts,  risen  up  against  it  in  might.  For  a  thousand  years 
had  the  system  dominated  over  all  expressions  of  indi- 
vidual energy,  fitting  itself  into  human  history,  and  in  truth 
mamly  constituting  that  histor^^  in  its  successive  manifes- 
tations. Now,  however,  it  was  broken  up.  The  warm 
breath  of  a  living  gospel  had  dissolved  it,  and  men  were 
cast  loose  from  the  bonds  which  had  so  long  controlled 
them.  The  old  spirit  of  individualism,  which  in  primitive 
Christianity  had  gone  forth  with  triumphant  success  into 
pagan  society,  had  once  more  awakened  as  from  a  long 


CALVIN 


171 


slumber,  and   rent  with   sundering   force   the   repressive 
mac-hiiiery  which  had  bound  without  destroying  it. 

Such  an  awakening  as  this,  in  the  very  nature  of  the 
case,  soon  began  to  run  into  many  extravagant  issues.  In 
the  first  fcehng  of  hberty  men  did  not  know  how  to  use  it 
temperately;  and  Anabaptism  in  Germany,  and  Libertinism 
in  France,  testified  to  the  moral  confusion  and  social  license 
that  everywhere  sprang  up  in  the  wake  of  the  Reformation. 
We  can  now  but  fiiintly  realize  how  ominons  all  this 
seemed  to  the  prospects  of  Protestantism.  It  appeared 
to  many  minds  as  if  it  would  terminate  in  mere  anarchy. 
The  rehgious  revival  seemed  likely  to  become  mere  social 
disorder.  At  the  very  best,  this  revival  was  everywhere 
apt  to  be  obscured  and  confounded  by  the  disorder 
spreading  alongside  of  it,  and  pursuing  it  as  its  baneful 
shadow.^ 

Then  to  add  to  the  exigency  thus  arising  out  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  Pi,eformation  itself,  there  were  signs  now 
at  length  (1536)  showing  themselves  in  all  directions  of  a 
reviving  strength  in  Homanism.  With  that  singular  vitality 
wiiicli  it  had  so  often  previously,  and  has  so  often  since  dis- 
played, it  now,  after  the  first  shattering  shock  of  the  Refor- 
mation, took  a  new  and  more  powerful  start  than  in  any  of 
its  preceding  developments.  Jesuitism  arose  as  the  formid- 
able and  well-matched  opponent  of  Protestantism ;  the 
highest  craft,  subtlety,  and  energy,  the  most  consummate 


1  Sir  William  Hamilton,  in  his  notes  about  Lutlier  (Discussions,  p.  499  et 
seq.),  lias  indicated  a  very  strong  opinion  as  to  the  dissolution  of  manners 
following  the  Reformation  in  Germany.  There  is,  however,  considerable 
arbitrariness  in  his  assertions,  without  any  clear  and  definite  background  of 
evidence  exhibited.  It  were  well  if  his  notes  about  Luther  and  the  history 
of  Lutheranism,  of  which  he  is  understood  to  have  had  a  large  collection, 
were  in  some  shape  given  to  the  public. 


172    LEADERS  OF  THE  REEORMATION. 

immorality  and  persistent  cruelty  of  the  system,  received 
in  this  marvellous  agency  a  fresh  and  vigorous  birth ;  and 
it  is  only  when  we  apprehend  and  bring  clearly  into  view 
its  peculiar  working  and  influence,  that  the  later  century 
of  the  Reformation  becomes  intelligible. 

Tiiis,  then,  was  the  historical  position  which  Calvin  oc- 
cupied. He  surveyed  and  realized  it  as  no  other  mind  of 
his  time  did.  •  He  naturally  hated  every  species  of  disor- 
der. His  whole  character  and  mind  were  constructive  and 
legislative.  Protestant  by  religious  conviction,  he  was  con- 
servative and  Catholic  by  natural  instinct;  and  accordingly 
he  was  no  sooner  within  the  reformed  movement,  than  he 
aimed  to  fix  it.  Especially  did  the  great  idea,  which  had 
been  originally  expressed  in  the  Catholic  Church,  but  had 
become  degraded  into  an  unspiritual  hierarchy  —  the  idea 
of  a  Divine  state  —  hold  possession  of  his  mind.  There 
was  a  completeness  in  it,  a  unity  and  consistency,  which  in 
all  things  charmed  Calvin.  He  felt,  moreover,  that  it  was 
only  by  the  resurrection  of  this  idea  in  some  new  form  that 
the  reactionary  strength  of  the  Cathohc  polity  could  be  met 
and  withstood.  He  saw  clearly  that  unless  the  moral  in- 
intensity  v\Ahich  had  broken  forth  in  the  Reformation,  and 
separated  itself  from  the  old  ecclesiastical  forms,  should  be 
turned  into  some  new  disciplinary  institution,  it  would 
spend  itself  and  disappear.  It  was  not  in  the  nature  of 
things  that  it  should  propagate  itself  merely  by  its  own  force. 
It  was  obvious  already  in  Germany  that  it  was  not  doing  so. 
A  controversial  interest  was  there  fast  beginning  to  swal- 
low up  the  spiritual  life  out  of  which  the  Reformation  had 
sprung ;  and  with  all  his  own  strong  polemic  tendencies, 
Calvin  sufficiently  discerned  the  evil  that  would  come  from 
such  a  spirit  —  the  mere  negation  and  deadness  to  which 
it  would  give  rise.     He  was  himself  too  practically  earnest, 


CALVIN.  1T3 

and  he  had  far  too  deep  a  feeling  of  the  wants  of  human 
nature  and  the  divine  education  tlu'ough  which  alone  it  can 
be  trained  to  strength  and  goodness,  not  to  aim  at  some- 
thing higher  than  the  mere  settlement  of  controversial 
dogma.  Argumentative  as  he  is,  he  is  yet  everyv/here 
nioie  tlie  legislator  than  the  dialectician  ;  and  it  is  an  insti- 
tutional instinct  and  capacity,  still  more  than  any  dogmatic 
or  polemic  interest,  that  prom[)ts  and  directs  all  his  activity. 
His  mind,  therefore,  could  not  rest  short  of  a  new  church 
organization  and  polity,  —  of  a  new  order  of  moral  disci- 
phne,  which,  planting  itself  in  the  heart  of  Protestantism, 
should  at  once  conserve  its  life,  and  enable  it  to  confront 
the  re-collecting  forces  and  still  powerfully  repressive  en- 
ergy of  the  Roman  hierarchy.  Strongly  impressed*  by  its 
necessity,  he  aimed  to  impart  to  Protestantism  a  new  social, 
as  well  as  doctrinal  expression  —  to  reconstitute,  in  short, 
the  divine  commonwealth,  tlie  civitas  Dei. 

There  are  two  distinct  views  that  may  be  taken  of  this 
part  of  Calvin's  work.  It  presents  itself,  on  the  one  hand, 
as  a  moral  influence,  —  a  conservative,  spiritual  discipline 
suited  to  the  time,  as  it  was  called  forth  by  it;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  as  a  new  theory,  or  definite  reconstitution  of 
the  church.  In  the  first  point  of  view,  it  is  almost  wholly 
admirable  ;  in  the  second,  it  will  be  found  unable  to  main- 
tain itself  any  more  than  the  Catholic  theory  which  it  so 
far  displaced.  .; 

The  general  principle  of  Calvin's  polity  was  simply  the 
reiissertion  of  a  divine  order  amid  the  confused  activities* 
of  the  time  —  of  the  majesty,  right,  and  only  peacefulness 
of  divine  law.  That  there  is  a  kingdom  of  God  in  the 
world ;  that  man  is  God's  creature  and  subject,  and  that 
there  is  only  Hfe  for  human  society,  and  happiness  for  the 
human  race,  in  recognizing  and  acting  upon  this  idea  ;  the 

15* 


174:         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFOEMATION'. 

consequent  obligation  of  self-sacrifice,  and  the  duty  of  sub- 
ordination and  combination  among  all  the  members  of  a 
comxmon    State,  —  these   were   the   old  truths  applied  by 
Calvin  to  the  reconstruction  of  the  Christian  connniinity. 
Any  one  who  reads  the  opening  chapter  of  the  fourth  book 
of  the  Institutes  will  at  once  see  how  deeply  he  was  struck 
and  penetrated  with  the  idea  of  the  church  visible,  as  well 
as  invisible,  and  with  the  necessity  of  a  due  and  becoming 
relation  of  authority  among  its  various  constituents.     His 
consistorial  scheme  of  government  was  to  him  the  appro- 
priate expression  of  this  authority ;  and  whatever  may  be 
our  critical  judgment  of  this  scheme,  we  are  not  to  forget, 
in  reference  even  to  some  of  most  extreme  and  misdi- 
rected" efforts,  the  absolute  lawlessness  with  which  it  came 
in  contact.     Such  an  order,  even  of  the  most  stern  and  re- 
pressive kind,  was  better  than  no  order ;  and,  in  truth,  we 
may  v.^ell  believe,  that  it  was  only  through  such  a  system 
of  iron  repression  —  a  system  which,  in  the  nature  of  the 
case,  and  in  all  the  circumstances  of  the  period,  sometimes 
confounded  mere  liberty  with  wrong,  and  mere  folly  with 
crime,  and  cast  its  restraining  presence  into  the  very  heart 
of  the  family  as  well  as  the  bosom  of  the  church  —  that 
the  moral  life  of  the  Reformation  could  have  been  saved, 
or,  at  any  rate,  strengthened  and  hardened  as  it  was,  for  the 
fearful  contest  that  was  before  it.     The   more  "any  one 
studies  the  facts  of  this  great  crisis,  the  more  will  he  be 
forced  to  see  that  no  more  aesthetic  spirit  of  freedom  could 
•  have  then  maintained  its  ground  against  the  dark  perjuries 
and  malice  of  the  reactionary  interest.    It  rec^uired  a  moral 
spirit  nurtured  in  hardness,  and   made   strong-limbed  by 
strenuous  and  daring  exercise,  to   encounter  the   supple 
deceit  and  Satanic  persistence  of  the  Jesuit  faction,  spread 
into  every  land,  and  working  by  the  most  dexterous  and 
disguised  communications. 


CALVIN.  175 

And  when  we  contemplate  for  a  moment  tlie  actua 
results  of  Calvin's  discipline,  all  this  most  strongly  appears. 
It  ^vas  the  spirit  bred  by  this  discii)line "which,  spreading 
into  France  and  Holland  and  Scotland,  maintained  by  its 
single  strength  the  cause  of  a  free  Protestantism  in  all 
these  lands.  It  was  the  same  spirit  which  inspired  the 
early,  and  lived  on  in  the  later  Puritans,  —  which  animated 
such  men  as  Owen  and  Baxter  and  Milton,  —  which  armed 
the  Parliament  of  England  with  might  against  Charles  I., 
and  stirred  the  great  soul  of  Cromwell  in  its  proudest  tri- 
umphs,— wliich  made  the  solitary  Knox,  as  he  stood  in  the 
antechamber  of  Mary,  a  greater  power  than  the  queen 
that  he  withstood, —  which  thus  fed  every  source  of  political 
liberty  in  the  Old  World,  and  burned  undimmed  in  the  gal- 
lant crew  of  the  "  Mayflower" —  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  —  who 
first  planted  the  seed  of  civilization  in  the  great  continent 
of  the  West.  A  stern  and  unyielding  reverence  for  law 
and  duty,  combined  with  a  high  resistance  to  the  encroach- 
ments of  mere  selfish  tyranny;  an  intense  love  of  the 
Bible,  and  an  undoubting  and  indiscriminating  application 
of  its  examples  to  the  business  of  life  and  the  afiairs  of 
state,  —  all  that  moral  heroism  in  Puritanism  which  awes  us 
by  its  grandeur,  though  it  may  fail  to  win  our  sympathy  or 
enlist  our  love,  —  had  its  well-spring  in  Geneva,  and  reflects 
a  lineal  glory  on  the  name  of  Calvin.  Linked  not  only 
spiritually  but  formally  with  the  Genevan  polity,  it  was 
from  thence  it  received  the  great  theocratic  idea  which  it 
prominently  embodied,  and  launched  forth  once  more  with 
such  triumph  into  the  history  of  the  world.  That  man,  as 
the  creature  of  God,  is  near  to  God,  and  under  the  control 
and  sanctity  of  the  divine  influence,  not  only  in  some,  but 
in  all  expressions  of  his  manifold  activity;  that  he  is 
^  bound  in  all  by  a  relation  to  the  divine  will ;  that  as  there 


ITG         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

is  no  individual  goodness,  so  there  can  be  no  social  bless- 
ing, and  no  real  civil  grandeur  apart  from  God ;  that  the 
civitas  Dei,  therefore,  is  no  dream  of  mere  enthusiasm  or 
of  sacerdotal  ambition,  but  a  true  idea  resting  on  the  ever- 
lasting relations  of  things,  and  all  other  ideas  of  the  nation 
or  society  rather  the  dreams  and  shows  of  which  this  is  the 
reaUty,  —  all  this,  of  which  Puritanism  was  conspicuously 
the  renewed  powerful  expression,  was  germinated  in 
the  small  state  of  Geneva,  and  from  this  narrow  centre 
■went  forth  to  mingle  in  the  increase,  and  to  add  moral  sta- 
bility to  the  ambition,  of  the  highest  form  of  hnman  civili- 
zation that  the  world  has  yet  seen.  Saving  from  this  new 
and  grand  development  given  to  Protestantism,  in  which 
Germany  had  no  share,  it  would  have  fared  ill  with  it  in 
the  great  crisis  through  which  it  had  to  pass ;  for  it  was 
only  this  profound  belief  in  a  divine  society  and  state,  of  a 
kingdom  of  truth  and  righteousness  in  the  world,  that  was 
able  to  encounter  the  falsehoods  of  state-craft  and  the  im- 
moralities of  mere  arbitrary  power.  It  was  only  Puritanism 
that  proved  a  match  for  Jesuitism,  and  held  it  in  check ; 
and  while  other  phases  of  Protestantism  were  shrinking 
into  mere  formality,  or  dying  out  in  weakness,  this  was  not 
merely  holding  its  own  in  a  stern  struggle  with  Romish 
intrigue,  but  through  many  strange  aberrations  and  internal 
contradictions  was  working  out  in  a  higher  form  the  princi- 
ples both  of  religious  and  of  civil  liberty. 

It  is  a  very  different  subject  that  is  before  us  when  we 
turn  to  contemplate  the  theocracy  of  Calvin,  in  its  formal 
expression  and  basis  as  a  new  and  definite  outline  of 
church  government.  In  this  respect  he  made  more  an  ap- 
parent tlian  a  real  advaiice  upon  the  old  Catholic  theocracy. 
He  took  up  the  old  principle  from  a  different  and  higher 
basis,  but  in  a  scarcely  less  arbitrary  and  external  manner. 


CALVIN.  177 

There  is  a  kingdom  of  divine  truth  and  righteousness,  he 
said,  and  Scripture,  not  the  priesthood,  is  its  basis.  The 
Divine  Word,  and  not  Pvoman  tradition,  is  the  foundation 
of  the  spiritual  commonwealth.  So  far,  all  right ;  so  far, 
Calvin  had  got  hold  of  a  powerful  truth  against  the  cfUTupt 
historical  pretensions  of  Popery.  But  he  at  once  went 
much  farther  than  this,  and  said,  not  tentatively,  or  in  a 
spirit  of  rational  freedom,  but  dogmatically,  and  in  a  spirit 
of  arbitrariness  tainted  with  the  very  falsehood  from  whose 
thraldom  he  sought  to  deliver  men,  "Tins  is  the  form  of  tlie 
Divine  kingdom  presented  in  Scripture^  Not  the  presence 
of  certain  siiiritual  qualities,  but  the  presence  of  certain 
external  conditions,  w^liich  I  have  fixed  and  determined, 
constitute  the  church.  Scri})ture  absolutely  demands  this, 
and  forbids  that,  in  reference  to  the  organization  and  order 
of  the  Christian  society.  This  idea  of  going  back  to  Scrip- 
ture not  merely  as  an  historical  starting-{)oint,  but  dc  novo 
and  entirely,  for  all  the  elements  of  an  ecclesiastical  polity, 
was  one  peculiar  to  Calvin,  and  all  who  more  or  less  em- 
braced or  ^vere  influenced  by  his  principles.  It  was  not 
only  unacknowledged  by  Luther,  but  strongly  distasteful  to 
his  concrete  and  historical  sympathies.  He  sought  rather 
to  preserve  the  inherited  Catholic  machinery  in  every 
respect  so  far  as  it  was  not  plainly  opposed  to  Scripture. 
He  wished  merely  to  amend  and  rectify  its  obviously  un- 
christian abuses.  Abolition  and  reinstitution  beyond  this, 
on  any  pretence  of  Scriptural  sim[)licity,  he  strenuously 
resisted  against  the  pseudo-Puritanism  of  Carlstadt.  The 
old  Catholic  usages  were  not  to  be  wantonly  touched,  but 
under  all  their  corruptions,  and  when  stripped  from  these, 
remained  at  once  dear  to  his  affection  and  beautiful  to  his 
imagination.  But  Calvin  felt  no  such  ties  to  the  past,  and 
could  never  understand  the  influence  of  them  on  others.   It 


178    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

was  his  constant  complaint  against  the  Lutherans  that  they 
preserved  so  many  ceremonies,  and  his  contempt  for  the 
tolerabiles  inejDtias'^  of  Enghsh  Protestantism  is  well  known. 
Witli  no  imagination,  and  but  cold  feelings,  and  a  meagre 
sympathy  with  traditional  associations,  —  with  a  s})here, 
moreover,  singularly  cleared  for  his  activity  in  the  small 
state  of  Geneva,  —  he  was  led  to  indulge  to  the  fall  his 
legislative  bias,  and  to  plan  and  rearrange,  according  to  his 
own  arbitrary  convictions,  a  "  religious  constitution." 

The  vigor  of  this  religious  constitution  sufficiently 
showed  itself  in  the  approbation  which  it  commanded,  and 
the  manner  in  which  it  spread  itself  wherever  the  popular 
will  had  scope  in  monlding  the  progress  of  the  Reforma- 
tion.. Presbyterianism  became  the  peculiar  church  order 
of  a  free  Protestantism,  carrying  with  it  everywhere,  singu- 
larly enough,  as  one  of  the  very  agencies  of  its  free  moral 
influence,  an  inquisitorial  authority  resembling  tliat  of  the 
Calvinistic  consistory.  It  rested,  beyond  doubt,  on  a  true 
divine  order,  else  it  never  could  have  attained  this  histori- 
cal success.  But  it  also  involved  from  the  beginning  a 
corrupting  stain  in  the  very  way  in  v/hich  it  put  forth  its 
divine  warrant.  It  nat  merely  asserted  itself  to  be  wise 
and  conformable  to  Scripture,  and  therefore  divine,  but  it 
claimed  the  direct  impress  of  a  divine  right  for  all  its  de- 
tails and  applications.  This  gave  it  strength  and  influence 
in  a  rude  and  uncritical  age,  but  it  planted  in  it  from  the 
first  an  element  of  corruiption.  The  great  conception  which 
it  embodied  was  impaired  at  the  root  by  being  fixed  in  a 
stagnant  and  inflexible  system,  which  became  identified 
with  the  conception  as  not  only  equally,  but  specially 
divine.     The  ritual  thus  once  more  preceded  the  moral ; 

'  Letters,  vol.  ii.  pp.  341,  342. 


CALVIN.  179 

the  accidental,  the  essential ;  external  uniformity,  moral 
unity :  and  Calvin  himself,  seduced  by  this  radical  mistake, 
sought  by  the  mere  rigor  of  the  consistory,  and  the  most 
trivial  details  of  over-legislation,  to  touch  the  heart  of  life, 
and  mould  it  to  a  holy  and  peaceful  order.  Never  was 
there  a  greater  mistake.  All  the  richest  qualities  and  most 
genuine  aspirations  of  life  forbid  the  attempt.  However 
temporarily  strengthened,  they  cannot  healthily  grow  under 
such  a  system.  The  kingdom  of  righteousness  can  alone 
flourish  in  an  atmosphere  of  perfect  freedom ;  it  is  never 
helped,  but  only  injured,  by  any  species  of  external  com- 
pulsion. Divine  society  is  only  held  together  by  inner 
bonds  ;  it  lives  along  lines  of  sphitual  communication,  and 
not  of  legal  enactment ;  in  its  essence,  in  short,  it  is  not 
"  of  this  world,"  while  yet  necessarily  taking  to  itself,  ac- 
cording to  circumstances,  some  definite  outward  shape.  In 
so  far  as  Presbyterian  Puritanism  came  short  of  all  this, — 
nay,  in  many  respects  contradicted  it,  —  it  failed  to  realize 
the  only  divine  principle  of  moral  government ;  and  the 
theocratic  idea  accordingly,  in  its  renewed  assertion,  fell 
back  once  more  into  its  old  mistake  and  confusion.  The 
garments  of  Judaism  still  clung  to  it ;  the  idea  had  not  yet 
worked  itself  clear  from  the  beggarly  elements  that  haunt 
it  as  its  shadow,  and  are  everywhere  ready  to  supplant  and 
degrade  it. 

But  were  not  these  "  elements,"  some  will  say,  really  bib- 
lical?— did  not  Calvin  establish  his  church  polity  and  church 
discipline  upon  Scripture  ?  —  and  is  not  this  a  warrantable 
course  ?  Assuredly  not,  in  the  spirit  in  which  he  did  it. 
The  fundamental  source  of  the  mistake  is  here  :  The 
Christian  Scriptures  are  a  revelation  of  divine  truth,  and 
not  a  revelation  of  church  polity.  They  not  only  do  not 
lay  down  the  outline  of  such  a  polity,  but  they  do  not  even 


180    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

give  the  adequate  and  conclusive  hints  of  one.  And  for 
the  best  of  all  reasons,  that  it  would  have  been  entirely 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  Christianity  to  have  done  so  ;  and 
because,  in  point  of  fact,  the  conditions  of  human  progress 
do  not  admit  of  the  imposition  of  any  unvarying  system  of 
government,  ecclesiastical  or  civil.  The  system  adapts  itself 
to  the  life,  everywhere  expands  with  it,  or  narrows  with 
it,  l)ut  is  nowhere  in  any  particular  form  the  absolute  con- 
dition of  life.  A  definite  outline  of  church  polity,  therefore, 
or  a  definite  code  of  social  ethics,  is  nowhere  given  in  the 
New  Testament ;  and  the  spirit  of  it  is  entirely  hostile  to 
the  absolute  assertion  of  either  the  one  or  the  other. 
Calvin,  in  truth,  must  have  felt  this  sufficiently  in  his  con- 
stant appeal  to  the  spirit  and  details  of  the  Old  Testament 
legislation.  The  historical  confusion,  in  this  respect,  in 
which  he  and  all  his  age  shared,  was  a  source  of  fruitful 
error,  here  or  elsewhere. 

But  what  of  the  church,  then,  and  church  authority  ? 
Do  they  not  disappear  altogether  in  such  a  view  as  we 
have  suggested  ?  No  ;  not  in  the  least.  They  appear,  on 
the  contrary,  in  their  only  true  and  divine  light,  as  resting 
on  Scripture,  but  not  as  absolutely  contained  and  defined 
in  it.  There  is,  and  ought  to  be  in  both,  a  rightful  conform- 
ity with  Scripture,  as  with  the  growth  of  the  Christian 
reason  in  history.  The  church  is  everywhere  a  positive 
divine  institution  resting  on  these  two  bases, — on  the  latter 
not  less  than  the  former,  as  constituting  no  less,  really  and 
practicallj,  a  jus  clivinmn.  For  the  renewed  assertion  of 
the  positive  character  and  educational  necessity  of  the 
church,  and  for  the  fresh  element  of  strength  thus  imparted 
to  Protestantism,  we  are  indebted  to  Calvin  ;  but  his  speciai 
theory  of  the  church  is  no  more  exclusive  than  any  other 
theory.     Neither  his  church,  nor  any  church,  is  necessarily 


CALVIN.  181 

and  absolutely  the  divine  institution.  Turn  some  arbitrary- 
ritual  element  in  front,  whether  Romanistic  or  Calvinistic, 
and  make  it  the  divine,  and  you  invert  the  truly  divine 
method.  This  always  turns  the  moral  elements  in  front, — 
the  rights  of  faith,  the  rights  of  reason  and  of  charity;  and 
the  ritual  follows  as  a  fitting  and  shifting  vestment.  The 
spirit,  in  short,  dominates,  the  form  serves  ;  and  it  was 
Calvin's  great  error  —  and  is,  alas  I  by  no  means  an  ex- 
tinct error  of  Protestantism  —  to  forget  this  fundamental 
law  of  the  divine,  which  we  can  ever  only  alter  at  our 
peril. 

While  claiming  this  divine  freedom,  without  which  truth 
can  nowhere  live,  it  becomes  us  at  the  same  time  to  re- 
member that  the  highest  freedom  is  always  bound  fast  in 
moral  law.  This,  the  essential  spirit  of  Puritanism,  is 
eternal,  whatever  may  be  the  temporary  character  of  its 
dogmatical  or  ecclesiastical  machinery.  These  may  perish, 
as  they  seem  in  many  of  their  forms  decaying ;  but  the 
earnestness,  righteousness,  purity,  and  resoluteness,  which 
were  the  highest  meaning  of  Puritanism,  and  the  really 
valuable  growth  of  Calvinism,  can  never  decay  without 
moral  and  social  ruin.  Amid  all  the  expansions  and  re- 
finements of  modern  thought  and  hfe,  let  us  hope,  there- 
fore, that  we  shall  never  lose  these  genuine  elements  of 
the  Calvinistic  spirit ;  but  Avhile  we  open  our  minds  to  the 
higher  and  more  comprehending  expressions  of  divine  truth 
that  meet  us  everywhere,  and  learn  a  nobler  wisdom  and 
tolerance  amid  all  our  differences,  let  us,  at  the  same  time, 
always  remember  that  there  is  no  strength  of  good  save  in 
the  gospel  of  old,  and  no  real  dignity  or  beauty  for  human 
life,  save  in  Him  "  who  did  no  sin." 

16 


Ill 


LATIMER 


L  A  T  I  M  E  E. 


In  the  English  Reformation  we  contemplate  a  state  of 
things  peculigLr  and  unexampled ;  we  do  not  see,  as  in 
Germany,  a  mighty  spiritual  movement  sweeping  for  the 
moment  all  before  it,  and  headed  by  one  who  gives  voice 
and  direction  and  triumph  to  it ;  nor  yet,  as  in  the  Calvin- 
istic  Reformation,  a  great  reconstructive  organization  of  the 
doctrinal  and  social  elements  which  had  been  disturbed 
and  set  in  motion ;  but  a  complicated  action  of  distinctly 
political  as  well  as  religious  forces, — the  former  frequently 
crossing  and  impeding  the  latter,  rather  than  contributing 
with  them  to  one  grand  result.  Tliis  characteristic  of 
double  action,  of  the  working  of  political  as  well  as  religi- 
ous influences  against  the  Papacy,  goes  far  back  into 
English  liistory ;  and  the  political  opposition  is,  in  truth, 
the  earlier,  and  in  some  respects,  the  more  powerful  influ- 
ence. All  along  from  the  Conquest,  such  an  opposition 
marks  like  a  line  of  light  the  proud  history  of  England,  the 
gi-andest,  because  the  richest  in  diverse  historical  elements, 
that  the  world  has  ever  seen.  On  from  the  memorable 
struggles  of  the  reign  of  Henry  II.,  when  the  political  and 
ecclesiastical  interests  stamped  the  impress  of  their  fierce 
contention  so  strongly  on  the  Enghsh  character,  Rome  ap- 
pears as  an  alien  and  antagonistic  power  in  the  country,  — 
as  the  threatening  shadow  of  a  concealed  enemy,  against 
which  the  higher  and  healthier  national  life  is  continually 

16# 


186         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

directing  itself.  With  "the  reign  of  Edward  III,  and  the 
rise  of  WickhiFe,  the  rehgious  element  rises,  for  the  first 
time,  into  clear  and  impressive  prominence,  working  along- 
side of,  and  even  ontbalancing,  the  political  action. 

WicklifFe  himself,  in  the  earher  and  later  phases  of  his 
career,  represents  both  sides  of  the  national  movement 
against  the  Papacy,  —  his  primary  position  as  the  friend  of 
John  of  Gannt  being  mainly  political,  and  his  final  position 
as  the  Theologian  of  the  Scriptures  and  Rector  of  Lutter- 
worth being  mainly  religious.  We  find  in  his  words  the 
powerful  echo  of  the  feelings  then  stirring  the  heart  of 
England ;  the  protesting  vehemence  of  both  nobles  and 
people  as  they  raised  the  cry,  "  No  I  England  belongs  not 
to  the  Pope ;  the  Pope  is  but  a  man,  subject  to  sin ;"  the 
awakening  breath  of  an  earnest  Christian  activity  as  he 
bade  his  foUoAvers  "  Go  and  preach ;  it  is  the  snbhmest 
w^ork ;  but  imitate  not  the  priests,  whom  we  see  after  the 
sermon  sitting  in  the  ale-houses,  or  at  the  gaming-tabfe,  or 
w^asting  their  time  in  hunting.  After  your  sermon  is  ended, 
do  you  visit  the  sick,  the  aged,  the  poor,  the  blind,  and  the 
lame,  and  succor  them  according  to  your  ability."  The 
same  principles  which  afterwards  trium})hed  in  the  six- 
teenth century  Avere  now  everywhere  operating.  It  is  sin- 
gular, indeed,  how  even  to  its  extravagances  this  earlier 
reform  movement  in  England  mirrored  the  various  features 
of  the  later  and  more  powerful  movement,  —  the  royal 
moderation,  the  parliamentary  indignation,  the  spiritual  re- 
vival among  the  lower  classes,  the  communistic  exaggera- 
tions, into  wiiich  the  plain  truth  of  the  gospel,  crudely 
apprehended,  so  fastly  ran.  This  latter  result,  in  the  com- 
parative swiftness  with  which  it  came  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  was  a  sufficient  indication  that  the  time  was  not 
yet  ripe  for  a  successful  insurrection  against  Popery.     The 


LATIMEK.  187 

national  mind  was  still  too  unenlightened,  tlie  popular  feel- 
ing too  unsteady,  as  the  armed  tumult  of  Wat  Tyler  with 
his  hundred  thousand  followers  proved.  The  hierarchy, 
moreover,  was  still  too  powerful ;  its  intelligence,  and  even 
its  moral  strength,  survived  too  strongly  to  permit  the  rise 
of  any  consistent  or  extensive  opposition. 

With  the  death  of  WicklifFe  in  1484,  the  moving  energy 
of  his  principles  and  teaching  very  much  died  out.  Their 
unfortunate  association  with  the  anarchy  which  character- 
ized the  earlier  years  of  E-ichard  II.'s  weak  and  disgrace- 
ful reign,  contributed  to  lesson  and  deteriorate  their  influ- 
ence, and  to  provoke  against  them  severe  parliamentary 
penalties.^  The  spirit,  however,  which  the  great  proto- 
reformer  had  kindled,  lived  on  through  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury in  Lollardism,  and  various  obscure  forms  of  religious 
life.  It  penetrated,  as  a  secret  and  quiet  influence,  whole 
districts,  binding  poor  families  together  by  a  spiritual  bond 
such  as  they  could  no  longer  find  in  the  corrupt  formalism 
of  the  church,  and  cherished  by  the  private  reading  and 
transmission  from  hand  to  hand  of  portions  of  Wicklifle's 
translation  of  the  Scriptures.  We  can  trace  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  parliamentary  acts  directed  against  "  divers 
false  and  perverse  people  of  a  certain  new  sect,  damnably 
thinking  of  the  faith  of  the  sacraments  of  the  church,  and 
of  the  authority  of  the  same,"  how  widely  religious  disaf- 
fection had  spread,  and  with  what  unceasing  and  secret 
acting  — "  by  holding  and  exercising  schools,  by  making 
and  writing  books" — the  Wickliffites  sought  to  keep  alive 
a  pure  faith  hidden  in  many  hearts,  long  after  they  had 
ceased  to  be  a  formidable  power  in  the  country.  They 
even  spread  into  Scotland,  carrying  with  them  their  pre- 

1  See  Burnett,  vol.  i.  p.  50;  and  Fhoude,  vol.  ii.  p.  20  —  Act  de  Ilerciko 
comhurendo. 


188         LEADERS     OF     THE    REFORMATION. 

cious  books,  and  kindling  "wherever  they  went  a  divine 
light  in  the  darkness,  —  a  peaceful  and  holy  gleam  amid 
the  wild  contentions  and  miseries  of  that  unhappy  time. 

With  the  dawn  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  especially 
as  we  near  the  great  crisis  of  1517,  we  are  met  by  an 
awakening  religious  life  in  England  as  elsewhere ;  and 
what  mainly  strikes  us  is  the  varied  character  which  it 
presents.  It  proceeds  from  diverse  sources,  and  shows 
itself  in  very  different  classes.  There  is  a  comparative 
complexity  in  the  Anglican  Reformation,  even  on  its  purely 
religious  side,  and  altogether  apart  from  the  great  political 
agencies  at  work,  wliich  are  out  of  the  sphere  of  our 
present  consideration. 

There  is,  fii'st  of  all,  a  marked  Christian  revival  among 
the  poorer  classes,  alike  among  the  tradesmen  of  the  me- 
tropolis and  the  peasantry  on  the  banks  of  the  Humber,  the 
"Christian  brethren"  of  London,  and  the  "just  men"  of 
Lincolnshire.  It  seems  most  natural  to  connect  this  revival 
with  the  still  unextinguished  spirit  of  Lollardism,  and  to 
recognize  in  it  accordingly  a  fresh  outburst  from  the  long 
choked-up  source  of  Wickliffe's  influence.  This  influence 
had  perished  in  any  definite  national  expression,  but  there 
seems  no  reason  to  question  that  it  lived  on  as  a  hidden 
life  ;  that  persecution  did  not  absolutely  destroy  it,  but  only 
drove  it  underground  into  obscure  channels  no  longer 
traceable,  from  which  it  now  again,  under  fresh  excitement, 
began  to  emerge.^  In  any  case,  we  discern  at  this  time 
abundant  manifestations  of  a  fresh  rehgious  interest  among 
the  poor,  and  it  appears  very  much  to  be  characterized  by 

1  This  seems  a  more  likely  explanation  than  any  unexplained  "  second 
birth  of  Protestantism,"  as  conceived  by  Mr.  Froude,  who  represents  the 
influence  of  Wickliffe  as  entirely  extinguished  in  the  course  of  the  fifteenth 
century. 


LATIMER.  189 

the  old  Wickliffite  spirit  of  contempt  and  derision  of  the 
clergy.  Some  of  the  stories  preserved  by  Foxe  show  a 
proud  and  bitter  cynicism,  naturally  bred  by  the  circum- 
stances of  these  humble  people,  and  the  stern  repression 
of  all  the  earnest  feeling  awakened  in  them.  As  a  man  of 
the  name  of  John  Brown  was  descending  the  Thames  in  a 
passage-boat  to  Gravesend,  he  fell  into  conversation  with  a 
priest,  who  insolently  admonished  him  that  he  stood  too 
near  to  bis  sacred  person.  "  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ? " 
demanded  the  priest.  "  No,  sir,"  said  Brown.  "  Well,  then, 
you  must  know  that  I  am  a  priest." — "  Indeed,  sir  !  "  said 
Brown ;  "  and  pray,  are  you  a  parson,  or  vicar,  or  lady's 
chaplain  ? " — "  No  ;  I  am  a  soul  priest ;  I  sing  masses  for 
souls,"  he  pompously  replied.  "  Do  you,  sir  ?  "  remarked 
Brown ;  "  that  is  well  done  :  and  can  you  tell  me  where 
you  find  the  soul  when  you  begin  mass,  and  where  you 
leave  it  when  the  mass  is  ended  ?  " —  "  Go  thy  way,"  said 
the  priest ;  "  thou  art  a  heretic,  and  I  will  be  even  with 
you."  And  straightway,  on  reaching  their  destination,  he 
communicated  his  suspicions  of  Brown  to  two  of  his  com- 
panions ;  and  together  they  set  off  to  Canterbury,  to  de- 
nounce the  poor  man  to  the  archbishop.  The  result  was, 
that  after  many  sufferings  Brown  expiated  his  free  speech 
at  the  stake.  The  story  is  minutely  told  by  Foxe,  and 
repeated  by  d' Aubigne ;  ^  and  the  contrasts  of  the  happy 
English  home,  with  its  quiet,  cheerful  domesticities,  and 
the  rude  seizure,  torture,  and  death  of  the  poor  man,  make 
a  deeply  touching  picture.  Then,  again,  amid  the  fens  of 
Lincolnshire,  we  are  introduced  to  a  peasant  threshing  his 
corn  in  his  barn  as  a  neighbor  passes  by  and  salutes  him 
cheerfully.     '•'  Good  morrow !   you   are   hard   at  work." — 

J  Foxe,  Acts,  ii.  7,  8;  D'Aubig^je,  v.  191—194. 


190    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  man,  in  allusion  to  tlie  priestly  doctrine 
of  transiibstantiation,  "  I  am  threshing  God  Almighty  out 
of  the  straw."  ^  A  very  deep  and  intense  feeling  expresses 
itself  in  these  as  in  many  other  incidents  of  the  time. 
The  Catholic  authority  might  seem  scarcely  weakened  in 
outward  appearance,  but  with  such  a  spirit  slumbering 
amongst  the  people,  and  now  constantly  gatliering  strength, 
that  authority  was  really  impaired  in  its  very  foundation, 
and  no  longer  presented  its  old  capacity  of  resistance. 

In  the  meantime  a  new  and  more  vigorous  reforming  in- 
fluence was  beginning  in  the  universities.  The  publication 
of  Emsmus's  Greek  Testament,  and  the  news  from  Ger- 
many, started  a  spirit  of  inquiry  in  both  universities  almost 
simultaneously.  Students,  wearied  with  the  subtleties  of 
the  schools,  felt  a  fresh  world  opened  to  them  in  the  original 
pages  of  the  gospels  and  epistles.  They  read;  and,  as 
they  read,  a  new  impulse  came  to  them,  as  the  result  of 
their  own  quiet  study.  It  was  impossible  that,  amid  the 
rehgious  excitement  everywhere  astir,  young  and  earnest 
and  aspiring  minds  could  be  brought  into  contact  with  the 
Divine  Word  without  catching  the  life  that  in  every  page 
appealed  to  them,  and  being  drawn  under  its  stimulating 
power.  Foreign  influences  were  no  doubt  also  at  work. 
Luther's  opinions,  propagated  to  the  very  centres  of  the  old 
Catholicism  of  England,  produced  a  great  impression.  His 
writings  passed  from  hand  to  hand  under  every  attempt 
to  suppress  them,  and  the  enthusiasm  of  his  grand  exam- 
ple was  not  without  its  effect.  Yet  there  was  an  eminently 
original  character  about  the  reform  movement  which  now 
sprang  up  in  the  English  universities,  and  which  Avas  des- 
tined, in  its  larger  and  more  powerful  course,  to  swallow 

1  FoxE,  Ads,  ii.  7,  8,  D'Aubigxe,  p.  272. 


LATIMER.  191 

up,  or  at  least  to  invigorate  and  unite,  the  other  more  ob- 
scure channels  of  popular  religious  feeling.  There  was  an 
earnestness  and  yet  moderation  in  it, —  an  intensity  practi- 
cal rather  than  doctrinal,  a  simplicity  and  purity  of  Chris- 
tian apprehension,  which,  without  lacking  vigor,  shrank 
sensitively  from  all  violence,  —  eminently  characteristic, 
and  corresponding  to  its  origin  in  the  ancient  seats  of  learn- 
ing, and  in  the  original  soil  of  Scripture,  rather  than  in  the 
cloister,  and  in  the  solitary  struggles  of  any  one  great  and 
vehement  soul. 

Latimer's  claims  to  represent  this  movement,  and  the 
general  cause  of  the  Reformation  in  England,  does  not 
arise  from  any  primary  or  even  paramount  connection  with 
the  one  or  the  other.  No  single  name  in  England  pos- 
sesses this  glory.  We  do  not  find  here,  as  in  Germany, 
and  in  France  and  Switzerland,  any  single  prominent  figure 
towering  above  all  the  others  in  mental  and  moral  great- 
ness, but  a  group  of  figures,  each  with  their  own  claims  to 
distinction  and  influence,  —  Cranmer  alongside  of  Lati- 
mer, and  more  conspicuous  in  the  light  of  history ;  and 
Tyndale  and  Bilney  and  Barnes,  equally  associated  with 
him  in  the  religious  excitement  in  the  universities.  Tyn- 
dale and  Bilney  both  precede  Latimer;  and  the  former 
especially,  in  the  elevation  of  his  character,  in  the  influence 
which  he  exerted,  first  at  Oxford  and  then  at  Cambridge, 
and  subsequently  in  Gloucestershire  as  tutor  in  the  family 
of  Sir  John  Walsh,  and  above  all  in  the  noble  work  in 
which  he  wore  out  his  life,  and  earned  his  crown  of  mar- 
tyrdom,—r  the  translation  of  the  Scriptures, —  is  a  very 
beautiful  and  interesting  character,  which  would  well  repay 
special  study.  Then  there  is  a  peculiar  significance  in  the 
course  of  events  at  Oxford  in  1528  ;  the  search  for  Master 
Garret,  who  had  come  down  to  the  university  loaded  with 


192         LEADERS     OF     THE    REFORMATION. 

New  Testaments  and  heretical  tracts,  and  the  seizure  of 
Anthony  Delaber,  his  friend,  who  had  concerted  his  escape, 
and  whose  simple  and  affecting  narrative  of  the  whole 
transaction  has  been  preserved,  and  may  be  found  at  length 
in  the  very  graphic  chapter  which  opens  Mr.  Fronde's  sec- 
ond volume.  These  and  other  sketches  would  be  neces- 
sary to  give  any  complete  view  of  the  complex  movement 
which  presents  itself  before  us  in  the  English  Reformation. 
We  must  turn  aside,  however,  from  all  such  companion 
sketches,  and  fix  our  attention  mainly  upon  one  selected 
figure,  not  indeed  as  the  fnst  or  most  prominent,  but  as  that 
which  appears  to  us  upon  the  whole  the  most  typical  in 
combined  display  of  character,  and  of  representative  con- 
nection at  once  with  the  university  and  the  popular  religious 
feeling. 

The  life  of  Latimer  remains  unwritten,  and  there  are 
probably  no  longer  materials  for  any  adequate  biography. 
We  shall  endeavor,  however,  in  the  light  of  such  facts  as 
exist  in  Foxe's  Acts^  and  Strype's  Memorials,  and  particu- 
larly in  the  light  of  the  vivid  picture -work  of  his  own  ser- 
mons, to  furnish  as  complete  a  sketch  as  we  can  of  his 
career  and  labors.  There  are  in  these  many  graphic  and 
not  a  few  grotesque  etchings,  giving  us  the  very  life  of  the 
man  ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  catch  throughout  a  clear  view  and 
any  continuous  thread  of  narrative,  tracing  the  whole  and 
binding  it  in  order. 

Latimer  was  born  at  Thurcaston  in  Leicestershire  in  the 
year  1490,  some  say  1491.  EQs  father  was  an  honest  yeo- 
man, and  it  is  his  own  hand,  in  the  first  sermon  which  he 
preached  before  King  Edward  VI.,  that  has  drawn  for  us 

1  The  reader  will  find  Foxe's  narrative  of  Latimer's  Life  and  Acts  in  vol. 
vii.  of  Townsend's  edit.,  beginning  at  p.  437.  Our  references  are  not  in  all 
cases  given  to  the  page. 


LATIMER.  19-3 

the  paternal  character  and  homestead.  "  My  father,"  he 
says,  "  was  a  yeoman,  and  had  no  lands  of  his  own,  only 
he  had  a  farm  of  three  or  fonr  pounds  by  the  year  at  the 
uttermost,  and  hereupon  he  tilled  so  much  as  kept  half  a 
dozen  men.  He  had  walk  for  a  hundred  sheep,  and  my 
mother  milked  thirty  kine.  He  was  able  and  did  find  the 
king  in  harness,  with  himself  and  his  horse,  while  he  came 
to  the  place  that  he  should  receive  the  king's  wages.  .  .  . 
He  kept  me  to  school,  else  I  had  not  been  able  to  preach 
before  the  king's  majesty  now.  He  married  my  sisters  vrith 
five  pounds  or  twenty  nobles  a  piece  ;  so  that  he  brought 
them  np  in  godliness  and  the  fear  of  the  Lord.  He  kept 
hospitality  for  his  poor  neighbors,  and  some  alms  he  gave 
to  the  poor.  All  this  he  did  of  the  said  farm ; "  ^ —  evidently 
a  worthy,  solid,  and  able  man,  fit  to  do  his  work  in  this 
world,  and  leave  the  memory  of  his  worth,  if  not  much 
more,  to  his  children. 

Latimer  grew  up  in  his  old  English  household  a  vigorous 
and  happy  boy ;  health,  and  manly  life,  and  a  joyous  feeling 
of  home,  breathe  in  all  the  hints  he  has  given  us  of  his 
youth.  When  only  six  or  seven  years  old,  he  tells  us  that 
he  helped  to  buckle  on  his  father's  armor  when  he  went  to 
the  field  of  Blackheath,  where  the  king's  forces  were  en- 
camped against  the  Cornish  rebels.  It  was  a  time  of  stir. 
Henry  VII.  had  been  at  this  period  about  ten  years  upon 
the  throne,  but  the  embers  of  a  century's  internecine  strife 
were  still  only  dying  out.  Latimer's  flither  was  staunch  in 
his  devotion  to  the  new  governmc  iit,  as  this  event  shovv^s ; 
he  had  all  a  yeoman's  devotion  to  fighting,  and  to  the  grand 
old  art  of  cross-shooting,  —  "  God's  gift  to  the  English  na- 
tion above  all  other  nations,  and  the  instrument  whereby 


'  Sermons,  Camb   edit.,  p.  101. 
17 


194         LEALERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

lie  had  given  tliem  many  victories  against  their  enemies."^ 
He  v/as  careful  to  train  his  children  in  the  love  of  the  same 
soldierly  arts  ;  and  the  reformer  afterwards  recalled  these 
exercises  of  his  youth  with  pride,  in  contrast  with  the  de- 
generate and  vicious  recreations  of  his  own  age.  "  My 
father,"  he  says,^  "  was  as  diligent  to  teach  me  to  shoot  as 
to  learn  any  other  thing ;  he  taught  me  how  to  draw,  bow 
to  lay  my  body  in  my  bow,  and  not  to  draw  with  strength 
of  arms  as  other  nations  do,  but  with  strength  of  the  body. 
I  had  my  bow^s  bought  me  according  to  my  age  and 
strength  :  as  I  increased  in  them,  so  my  bows  were  made 
bigger  and  bigger;  for,"  he  adds,  in  a  quaint  didactic  vein 
not  uncommon  with  him,  as  to  the  affairs  of  the  present  life 
as  well  as  of  that  to  come,  "  men  shall  never  shoot  well 
except  they  be  brought  up  in  it :  it  is  a  goodly  aal,  a 
wholesome  kind  of  exercise,  and  much  commended  in 
physic." 

So  Latimer  grew  up,  hardily  trained  in  botly  as  Avell  as  in 
mind.  An  atmosphere  of  reality  surrounded  bis  boyhood  ; 
he  looked  at  life  and  nature  in  the  fresh  and  rough,  3"et 
beautiful  forms,  in  which  they  surrounded  him  in  the  old 
Leicestershire  farmhouse,  and  the  impressions  then  gathered 
never  left  him,  and  long  aftervv^ards  helped  to  deliver  him 
from  the  falsehoods  of  his  scholastic  training,  when  the 
higher  quickening  came  to  stir  the  true  heart  in  him. 

About  fourteen  years  of  age  he  was  sent  to  Cambridge ; 
and  d'Aubigne  has  noticed  that  the  year  1505,  when  he 
entered  the  university,  was  the  same  year  in  which  Luther 
entered  the  Augustine  convent  at  Erfurt.  He  is  said  to 
have  been  a  very  diligent  and  industrious  student.  In 
1509,  whilst  yet  an  under-graduate,  he  was  chosen  fellow 

1  Servions,  Camb.  edit.,  p.  l&T.  2  ibid. 


LATIMER.  195 

of  Clare  Hall.  In  the  foUowing  January  he  took  his  de- 
gree of  Bachelor  of  Arts,  and  proceeded  to  that  of  Master 
of  Arts  in  Jnly,  1514.  Up  to  this  period,  when  he  had  at- 
tained his  twenty- fourth  year,  we  do  not  learn  anything  of 
his  reUgions  views, — for  the  best  of  all  reasons,  probably, 
tiiat  there  was  nothing  to  learn.  He  fell  into  the  habits  of 
the  place  in  this  as  in  other  things,  and  probably  had  as 
yet  few  serious  thouglits  about  the  matter.  He  seems  to 
have  carried  into  his  college  life  the  heartiness  and  cheer- 
fulness of  the  yeoman's  son  ;  for  it  is  to  this  earlier  period, 
most  likely,  that  the  following  description  and  story  apply: 
"  There  was  a  merry  monk  in  Cambridge  in  the  college 
that  I  was  in,  and  it  chanced  a  great  company  of  us  to  be 
together,  intending  to  make  good  cheer  and  to  be  merry,  as 
scholars  will  be  merry  when  they  are  disposed.  One  of  the 
company  brought  out  this  sentence  — '  Nil  melius  quam 
Icrtari  et  facere  bene' —  there  is  nothing  better  than  to  be 
merry  and  to  do  well.  '  A  vengeance  of  that  boie,'  quoth 
the  monk ;  '  I  would  that  bene  had  been  banished  beyond 
the  sea;  and  that  bene  were  out  it  were  well,  for  I  could  be 
merry,  but  I  love  not  to  do  well.' "  ^ 

From  1514,  Latimer  betook  himself  to  the  study  of 
divinity, — "  of  such  school  divinity  as  the  ignorance  of 
that  age  did  suffer,"—  and  became  exceedingly  zealous  in 
support  of  the  established  doctrines  and  services.  As  Lu- 
ther said  of  himself,  that  he  was  a  "  most  insane  Papist," 
so  he  says,  "  I  was  as  obstinate  a  Papist  as  any  in  Eng- 
land." He  was  haunted  with  scrupulous  and  tormenting 
fears  as  to  whether  he  had  sufficiently  mingled  water  with 
the  wine  in  performing  mass,  as  the  missal  directs  ;  and  on 
the  occasion  of  his  taking  his  degree  of  Bachelor  in  Divin- 

'  Sermons,  p.  153. 


Il6         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

ity,  the  date  of  which  is  not  preserved,  he  directed  his 
"  whole  oration  "  against  Melancthon  and  his  opinions.  He 
appears  about  the  same  time  to  have  disthiguished  himself 
by  his  hostility  to  Master  George  Stafford,  "  reader  of  the 
divinity  lectures  at  Cambridge,"  who  had  become  imbued 
-with  the  "ne^v  learning,"  and  succeeded  in  turning  ma.ny 
of  the  youth  who  attended  him  to  the  study  of  the  holy 
Scriptures,  from  those  "  tedious  authors,"  as  Foxe  calls 
them,  in  which  Latimer  still  found  his  delight.  He  is  rep- 
resented as  entering  Stafford's  lecture-room,  and  "most 
spitefully  railing  against  him,"^  while  he  eloquently  sought 
to  persuade  tlie  youth  against  his  teaching.^ 

Here,  therefore,  we  have  the  old  picture  of  youthful 
sa.cerdotal  zeal.  It  is  the  very  highest  qualities  of  the  ai;- 
cient  system  that  the  ne\v  spirit  seizes  upon  and  conse- 
crates to  its  service.  Young  Latimer,  hailed  by  the  clergy 
as  a  rising  champion  of  the  papal  cause,  and  for  his  talents 
and  the  excelling  sanctimony  of  his  life,  preferred  to  be 
the  keeper  of  the  university  cross,"  is  destined  to  become 
the  sharp'  reprover  of  the  clergy,  and  the  great  agent  in 
cariying  out  the  religious  changes  then  threatening  them. 

There  was  in  Cambridge  then  a  3^oung  doctor  of  the 
name  of  Bilney,  probably  some  years  the  senior  of  Lati- 
mer. He  had,  after  much  struggle,  found  the  truth  foi 
himself  in  the  study  of  the  Greek  Testament.  At  first 
shrinking  from  the  forbidden  volume,  he  had  been  gradually 
attracted  by  it;  and,  weary  with  fasting  and  vigils,  and 
buying  of  masses  and  indulgences,  in  which  lie  could  get 
no  rest  to  his  soul,  he  at  length  found  peace  in  the  precious 

J  Foxe,  xi. 

2  Ralph  Morice's  Account  of  liis  Conversion,  printed  by  Strypc  —3Iem. 
Ill,  i.  3G8;  and  in  Remains,  Camb. 
^  Strype,  as  above. 


LATIMER.  197 

words  of  St.  Paul/  "  This  is  a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy 
of  all  acceptation,  That  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world 
to  save  sinners."  The  truth  daw^ned  to  him  out  of  the 
sacred  page,  and  he  was  w^on  to  the  new  cause.  Soon 
after  Tyndale  arrived  in  Cambridge,  having  taken  flight 
from  Oxford,  and  the  two  students  of  the  Greek  Testament, 
with  another  young  man  of  the  name  of  Frith,  encouraged 
one  another  in  the  work  of  reform  on  which  they  had 
entered. 

Bilney  had  watched  v/ith  interest  the  progress  of  Lati- 
mer. He  appreciated  his  high  qualities,  and  saw  how 
much  could  he  made  of  his  zeal,  if  only  it  could  he  turned 
in  the  right  direction.  He  had  been  one  of  his  auditors 
when,  as  Bachelor  of  Divinity,  he  lectured  against  Melanc- 
thon,  and  the  thought  Avas  forced  upon  him  of  trying  wdiat 
he  could  do  to  convert  the  youthful  enthusiast.  His  device 
was  a  strange  one,  and  will  be  best  narrated,  with  the  re- 
sults that  followed,  in  Latimer's  own  brief  wofds.  "  Bilney 
heard  me  at  that  time,  and  perceived  that  I  w^as  zealous 
without  knowledge  ;  and  he  came  to  me  afterwards  in  my 
study,  and  desired  me,  for  God's  sake,  to  hear  his  confes- 
sion. I  did  so  ;  and,  to  say  the  truth,  by  his  confession  I 
learned  more  than  I  did  before  for  many  years.  So  from 
that  time  forward  I  began  to  smell  the  word  of  God,  and 
forsook  the  school  doctors  and  such  foolei^es."  ^ 

Such  was  the  turning-point  in  Latimer's  spiritual  history. 
We  do  not  impart  more  meaning  to  his  simple  statement 
by  dwelling  upon  it,  and  trying  to  point  out  more  particu- 
larly the  influences  which  moved  him.  One  earnest  heart 
in  communion  with  another  regarding  their  deepest  secrets 
before  God,  is  all  that  we  are  permitted  to  see.     The  effect 

1  " Suavisslmam  Pauli  sententiam."  2  Sermons,  p.  334. 

17* 


198         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATIOX. 

produced  on  Latimer  was  decided.  "  \¥hereas  before  he 
was  an  enemy,  and  almost  a  persecutor  of  Christ,  he  was 
now  a  zealous  seeker  after  liim."  ^  He  was  frequently  in 
conference  with  Biluey  ;  and  he  sought  out  Stafford  to  beg 
his  forgiveness  for  his  former  rudeness  to  him.  His  cliange 
of  religious  feeling  immediately  began  to  assume  a  practi- 
cal form.  He  accompanied  Biloey  in  visiting  the  sick,  and 
the  prisoners  in  the  tower  of  Cambridge  ;  and  by-and-!,y 
he  felt  he  was  called  even  to  a  nobler  work  than  his  friend. 
His  energy  and  enthusiasm  began  to  find  their  natural  out- 
let in  the  pulpit.  Ptccognizing  this  as  above  all  his  voca- 
tion, "  he  preached  mightily  in  the  university  day  by  day, 
both  in  Enghsh  and  ad  clenwi,  to  the  great  admiration  of 
all  men  who  aforetime  had  known  him  of  a  contrary  severe 
opinion."  ^ 

Cambridge  was  greatly  excited  by  Latimer's  discourses. 
The  spirit  which  had  been  working  secretly  in  it  for  some 
time  now  befame  manifest.  The  fruit  of  Bilney's  prayers, 
and  of  Stafford's  divinity  lectures,  showed  itself  in  the  en- 
thusiasm which  welcomed  the  earnest  preacher,  and  the 
eagerness  especially  with  which  the  students  gathered 
round  him  and  drank  in  his  clear  and  powerfid  ^vords.  To 
one  of  these  students,  Thomas  Becon,  who  afterwards  be- 
came cha>)lain  to  Cranmer,  we  are  indebted  for  some  brief 
hints  of  the  chai^cter  and  etfect  of  these  early  sermons  of 
Latimer.  "I  Avas  present,"  Becon  says,^  "when,  with  man- 
ifest authorities  of  God's  word,  and  arguments  invincible, 
besides  the  allegations  of  doctors,  he  proved  in  his  sermons 
that  the  holy  Scriptures  ought  to  be  read  in  the  English 
tongue  of  all  Christian  people,  ^vhether  they  ^vere  priests  or 


*  FoxE.  2  Account  of  Movie e. 

3  Jeii'd  oj  Joy,  Becon's  Works  (Parker  Society),  pp.  42i,  425. 


LATIMER.  199 

laymen,  as  tliey  be  called.  .  .  .  rTeitlier  was  I  absent 
wlien  he  inveighed  against  temple-works,  good  intents, 
blind  zeal,  superstitious  devotion,  as  the  painting  of  taber- 
nacles, gilding  of  images,  setting  np  of  candles,  running  on 
pilgrimage,  and  such  other  idle  inventions  of  men,  whereby 
the  glory  of  God  was  obscured,  and  the  works  of  mercy  the 
less  regarded.  I  remember  also  how  he  was  wont  to  re- 
buke the  beneficed  men,  with  the  authority  of  God's  word, 
for  neglecting  and  not  teaching  tbeir  flock,  and  for  being 
absent  from  their  cures,  —  they  themselves  being  idle^  and 
masting  themselves  like  hogs  of  Epicnrus's  flock,  taking 
no  thought  though  their  poor  })arishioners  miserably  pine 
away,  starve,  perish,  and  die  for  hunger.  Neither  have  I 
forgotten  how  at  that  time  he  condemned  foolish,  ungodly, 
and  impossible  vows  to  be  fulfilled,  as  the  vow  of  chastity, 
etc.  Oh,  how  vehement  was  he  in  rebuking  all  sins,  and 
how  sweet  and  pleasant  were  his  v/ords  in  exhorting  unto 
virtue  I " 

The  practical,  earnest,  undoctrinal  character  of  Latimer's 
earlier  as  of  his  later  preaching,  is  clearly  shown  in  this 
description.  He  aimed,  in  the  same  spirit  as  Tyndale,  to 
bring  the  minds  of  men  in  contact  with  the  living  truth  of 
Scripture,  —  to  divert  them  from  all  mere  pretences  of  re- 
ligion, the  mockery  and  uselessness  of  which  he  had  him- 
self been  brought  to  feel,  to  the  real  interests  and  duties  of 
the  Christian  life.  He  spoke  from  the  heart  of  his  own 
fresh  experience,  swayed  by  an  enthusiasm  not  stormy, 
like  Luther's,  but  direct,  vehement,  and  caustic ;  and  the 
cfFect  was  irresistible  on  all  who  heard  him.  "  He  spake 
nothing,"  continues  Bccon,  "  but  it  left,  as  it  were,  certain 
pricks  or  stings  in  the  hearts  of  his  hearers,  which  moved 
them  to  consent  to  his  doctrine.  None  but  the  stifF-iiecked 
and  uncircumcised  in  heart  went  away  from  his  sermons 


200    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

witliout  being  affected  with  higli  detestation  of  sin,  and 
moved  to  all  godliness  and  virtue.  I  did  knovv^  certain  men 
which,  through  the  persuasion  of  their  friends,  went  unto 
his  sermons  sv/elliug  blown  full,  and  puffed  up,  like  unto 
Esop's  frog,  Vvdtli  envy  and  malice  against  him  ;  but  when 
they  returned,  the  sermon  being  done,  and  demanded  hov/ 
they  liked  him  and  his  doctrine,  the}^  answered,  AAdtb  the 
bishops'  and  Pharisees'  servants,  '  There  was  never  man 
that  spake  like  unto  this  man  I '  "  According  to  another 
testimony,'  the  practical  results  of  these  sermons  were 
equally  decided.  "  Numbers  were  brought  from  their  will- 
works,  as  pilgrimage  and  setting  up  of  candles,  unto  the 
work  that  God  commanded  expressedly  in  his  holy  Scrip- 
ture, and  to  the  reading  and  study  of  God's  word."  To  his 
preaching  Latimer  added  works  of  charity  and  piety,  not 
less  impressive  in  their  influence.  "He  watered,"  continues 
the  admiring  Becon,  "  with  good  deeds  whatsoever  he  had 
before  planted  with  godly  words." 

A  time  not  merely  of  excitement  but  of  blessing  had 
come  to  Cambridge ;  a  new  life  was  spreading  in  the  uni- 
versity and  the  city;  hearts  were  awakened  and  disciples 
multiplying,  and  the  memory  of  this  happy  period  of  evan- 
gelical revived  was  long  preserved  in  the  popular  doggerel  — 
"  When  JMaster  Stafford  read,  and  Master  Latimer  preached, 
then  was  Cambridge  blessed." 

Such  a  state  of  things  could  not  last  long  without  oppo- 
sition. It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  clergy  could 
quietly  contemplate  the  daring  operations  of  their  former 
champions,  now  turned  against  them.  It  was  not  in  hu- 
man nature,  and  certainly  not  in  clerical  nature,  to  do  this. 
A  feeling  of  amazement  and  humiliation  may  at  fu'st  have 

'  Turner's  Preservative  against  the  Poison  of  Pelarjius. 


LATIMER.  201 

kept  tlicm  silent ;  but  soon  they  began  to  realize  the  peril 
of  their  position  and  tlie  necessity  of  action  ;  or,  to  nse  the 
words  of  old  Foxe,  "Belike  Satan  began  to  feel  himself 
and  his  kingdom  to  be  touched  too  near,  and  therefore 
thought  it  time  to  look  about  him,  and  to  make  out  his  men 
of  arms."  The  devifs  men  of  arms  accordingly  appear  in 
"whole  swarms  of  friars  and  doctors,  who  flocked  against 
Ivlaster  Latimer  on  every  side." 

It  is  not  easy  to  trace  the  chronological  succession  of  the 
difficulties  and  controversies  into  which  Latimer  was  now 
plunged.  Already,  to  some  extent,  the  guidance  of  dates 
has  forsaken  us.  Our  last  date  was  1514,  when  he  had 
taken  his  Master's  degree,  'and  between  this  and  1529,  or 
during  a  period  of  fifteen  years,  we  have  no  very  distinct 
thread  of  chronological  arrangement.  A  general  statement 
of  his  own,  that  he  "walked  in  darkness  and  the  shadow 
of  death,"  until  he  was  thirty  years  of  age,  enables  us  to 
fix  his  entrance  upon  his  new  career  about  1521.  The 
subsequent  eight  years,  representing  his  first  activity  as  a 
preacher,  and  now  described  as  so  memorable  in  their  re- 
sults, remain  in  great  confusion.  According  to  Foxe,  the 
famous  sermons  "  on  the  Card,"  w^ould  seem  to  have  been 
among  the  first  causes  of  excitement  and  disturbance 
against  him.  But  we  learn  from  Foxe's  own  statement 
that  these  sermons  were  not  preached  till  about  Christmas, 
1529,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  conclude,  therefore,  that 
the  interference  of  the  Bishop  of  Ely,  and  the  reformer's 
citation  before  Wolsey  at  tlie  instance  of  "  divers  Papists 
in  the  university,"  who  made  a  "grievous  complaint" 
against  him,  occurred  in  the  interval  between  this  and 
1521. 

The  story  of  his  encounter  with  Bishop  West  is  very 
characteristic.     He  was  preaching  one  day  ad  clerum  in 


the  luiiversity,  when  the  bishop,  attended  by  a  troop  of 
priests,  entered  the  church.  Latimer  paused  until  they  had 
taken  their  seats,  and  then  remarking  that  a  new  audience 
demanded  a  new  theme,  said  that  he  would  alter  liis  in- 
tended topic  of  discourse,  and  preach  from  Heb.  ix.  11; 
"  Christus  existcns  Fontifex  fiiturormn  honoruml'' — "  Christ 
a  high  priest  of  good  things  to  come."  From  this  text  he 
took  occasion  to  represent  Christ  as  "  the  true  and  perfect 
pattern  unto  all  other  priests;"  and  in  his  usual  pithy 
manner  drew  out  the  contrasts  between  this  pattern  and 
the  English  prelates  of  the  day.  It  may  be  imagined  that 
the  bishop  was  not  particularly  pleased.  He  sent  for  Lat- 
imer, and  held  some  parley  with  him,  commending  his  tal- 
ents, and  urging  him  to  display  them  in  a  sermon  against 
Luther  from  the  same  pulpit.  Latimer,  however,  was  not 
to  be  ensnared,  and  boldly  replied,  "  If  Luther  preaches 
the  ^vord  of  God,  he  needs  no  confutation;  but  if  he 
teaches  the  contrary,  I  will  be  ready  with  all  my  heart  to 
confound  his  doctrine  as  much  as  lies  in  me."  The  bishop 
cautioned  him  that  "  he  smelied  somewhat  of  the  pan,"  and 
that  he  would  one  day  or  another  repent  his  conduct.  Re 
forthwith  issued  an  edict  forbidding  him  to  preach  any 
more  within  the  churches  of  the  university;  but  Latimer 
found  refuge  \\\  the  church  of  the  Augustine  Friars,^  which 
^vas  exempt  from  episcopal  jurisdiction,  and  there  continued 
his  stirring  sermons.  The  bishop,  along  with  others,  com- 
plained to  Wolsey,  who  sent  for  the  bold  preacher,  and 
after  hearing  from  him  an  account  of  the  matter,  not  only 
dismissed  him  with  merely  a  gentle  admonition,  but  grantedt 
him  a  license  to  preach  in  any  church  throughout  England. 


1  Barnes  was  Prior  of  the  Augustiues,  1525.     This  appears  about  the  date 
of  Latimer's  encounter  with  West. 


L  A  T  I  M  E  E .  203 

"  If  the  Bishop  of  Ely  cannot  abide  such  doctrine  as  you 
have  repeated,"  he  said,  "  you  shall  preach  it  to  liis  beard, 
let  him  say  what  he  v/ilL" 

His  two  sermons  "on  the  Card,"  are  the  earliest  of  his 
printed  sermons  tlmt  we  possess.  These  discourses,  so  re- 
markable in  their  quainlness,  and  the  keen  and  plain  tone 
of  their  practical  exhortation,  renewed  the  monkish  com- 
motion n gainst  him  in  the  university.  The  prior  of  the 
Black  Friars,  one  Buckenham,  tried  to  rival  him  as  a 
preacher,  and  to  outdo  him  even  in  his  peculiar  line  of 
homely  popular  allusion.  "About  the  same  time  of  Christ- 
mas," ^  Foxe  says,-  "when  Mr.  Latimer  brought  forth  his 
cards  (to  deface  belike  the  doings  of  the  other),  the  prior 
brought  out  his  Christmas  dice,  casting  them  to  his  audience 
cinque  and  quatm ;''  and  in  some  unintelligible  manner 
aiming,  through  this  poor  counter-device  to  Latimer's  sym- 
bolic cards,  to  prove  'the  inexpediency  of  intrusting  the 
Scriptures  in  English  to  the  vulgar.  The  prior's  sense  and 
eloquence  seem  alike  to  have  been  at  fault.  He  brought 
forward  the  most  miserable  arguments  against  the  use  of 
the  Scriptures  ;  as,  for  example,  that  the  ploughman,  when 
hearing  that  "  no  man  that  layeth  his  hand  to  the  plough, 
and  looketh  back,  is  worthy  of  the  kingdom  of  God,"  might 
peradvcnture  cease  from  his  plough  ;  and  that  the  baker,  in 
a  similar  manner,  might  be  induced  to  leave  his  bread  un- 
leavened on  hearing  that  "  a  little  leaven  corrupteth  a 
whole  lump."  It  was  a  dangerous  line  of  argument  to 
enter  upon  with  an  opponent  like  Latimer,  who  had  so 

'  This  statement  of  Foxe,  if  we  can  rely  ut  all  npon  his  chronological  state- 
ments, would  seem  to  fix  Buckenham's  encounter  with  Latimej;  to  this  date 
of  1529.  D' Aubigne,  however,  has  advanced  it  to  the  very  beginning  of  his 
career  as  a  Protestant  preacher  (vol.  v.  chap,  vii.). 

2  Book  XI. 


201         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATIOX. 

keen  an  eye  for  the  comic  aspect  of  stupidity.  He  had 
been  an  auditor  of  the  friar's,  and  taken  note  of  such  points 
for  future  use.  Soon  after,  he  is  the  preacher  and  the  friar 
a  hsteuer  among  "  a  great  muhitude,  as  well  of  the  univei-- 
sity  as  of  the  town,  met  with  great  expectation  to  hear 
what  he  would  say."  The  arguments  of  the  friar  were 
dallied  with  in  a  manner  that  must  have  touched  the  quick 
even  beneath  his  thick  conceit ;  such  figures  of  speech, 
the  jireacher  said,  were  no  worse  to  be  understood  than 
the  most  common  representation  of  painters,  such  as  they 
paint  on  avails  aud  on  houses.  "  As,  for  example,"  he  con- 
tinued, casting  a  meaning  glance  at  the  friar,  who  sat  op- 
posite him,  "  when  they  paint  a  fox  preaching  out  of  a 
friar's  cowl,  none  is  so  mad  to  take  this  to  be  a  fox  that 
preacheth,  but  know  well  enough  the  meaning  of  the  mat- 
ter, which  is  to  point  out  unto  us  what  hypocrisy,  craft,  and 
subtle  dissimulation  lieth  hid  many  times  in  these  friars' 
cowls,  w^illing  us  thereby  to  beware  of  them."  "  Friar 
Buckenham,"  the  chronicler  adds,  ^vas  so  "  dashed  w^ith 
this  sermon,  that  he  never  after  durst  peep  out  of  the  pulpit 
against  JMaster  La,timer." 

Tiiis  year  of  1529,  which  presents  to  us  Latimer  in  hot 
conilict  w^ith  his  popish  adversaries  in  the  university  of 
Cambridge,  was  a  memorable  one  in  English  history. 
"VVolsey  had  fallen  in  the  beginning  of  the  year ;  Sir 
Thomas  More  had  been  installed  as  his  successor.  The 
country  was  strongly  excited  on  the  subject  of  the  nego- 
tiations with  Rome  as  to  the  king's  divorce,  which  had 
been  procrastinated  from  time  to  time  under  the  most 
wearying  pretences.  The  extortions  of  the  clergy,  more- 
over, in  tlTC  consistory  courts,  and  the  manifold  abuses  long 
complained  of,  but  still  maintained  by  them,  and  now  grown 
to  an  intolerable  height,  had  produced  a  widespread  feel- 


LATIMER.  205 

ing  of  indignation,  which  only  waited  for  a  fitting  ojpor- 
kuiity  to  burst  forth.  Writs  were  issued  for  a  new  parha- 
ment  in  the  September  of  this  year,  and  no  sooner  had  it 
met  in  November,  than  the  feehngs  of  the  country  found 
voice  in  the  famous  petition  against  the  bishops  and  clergy. 
The  main  abuses  detailed  in  the  petition  were  afterwards 
the  subject  of  special  legislation  ;  and  the  bench  of  bishops 
beheld  with  amazement  bill  after  bill  pass  the  Commons, 
"  all  to  the  destruction  of  the  church,"  as  Fisher,  Bishop 
of  Rochester,  said.  There  was  no  help  for  it,  however; 
and  the  "  Probate  and  Mortuary  Act,"  the  "  Clergy  Disci- 
pline Act,"  and  the  "  Residence  and  Pluralities  Act,"  rap- 
idly carried  through  both  houses  in  defiance  of  episcopal 
opposition,  sufficientlj  showed  the  temper  of  the  times,  and 
signalized  the  legislative  activity  of  a  brief  session  of  six 
weeks. 

It  deserves  to  be  noticed  that,  with  all  this  opposition  to 
the  clergy,  the  Parliament  of  1529  was  so  far  from  having 
any  sympathy  with  the  awakened  spiritual  life  represented 
by  such  men  as  Tyndale  and  Latimer,  and  out  of  which 
Protestantism  was  growing,  that  it  was  especially  anxious 
to  clear  itself  from  all  suspicion  of  countenancing  heresy, 
and,  in  fact,  encouraged  the  more  active  prosecution  of 
heretics  which  was  about  that  time  commenced. 

In  the  course  of  the  following  year,  the  clifierences  be- 
tween Latimer  and  his  accusers  were  the  subject  of  ofiicial 
investigation  before  the  vice-chancellor.  The  latter  seems 
to  have  shrunk  from  the  challenge  to  lay  a  regular  charge 
against  the  reformer;  and  the  affair  terminated  in  both 
parties  being  bound  to  keep  the  peace,  and  to  abstain  from 
using  offensive  expressions  against  each  other  in  the  pulpit, 
on  pain  of  excommunication.     The  virulence  of  his  ene- 

18 


206         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

mies,   rather   than   the   impudent   speech   of    the    darmg 
preacher,  seems  to  have  called  forth  this  judgment. 

In  the  same  year  Latimer  was  employed  in  the  matter 
of  the  king's  divorce,  being  one  of  those  appointed  by  the 
university  to  examine  into  the  lawfulness  of  his  marricge 
with  Catherine.  He  declared  on  the  side  of  the  king,  and 
the  decision  of  the  university  in  favor  of  the  divorce  was 
given  on  the  9th  of  March,  1530.  On  the  following  Sun- 
day he  preached  before  the  king,  who  "greatly  praised  his 
sermon."  Henry,  who,  whatever  may  have  been  his  faults, 
had  certainly  a  rare  apj)reciation  of  character,  and  a  gen- 
uine respect  for  a  true  and  able  man  w^hen  he  came  in  his 
way,  and  w^as  likely  to  be  useful  to  him,  appears  to  have 
been  strongly  taken  with  the  honest  and  unsparing  preacher. 
He  appointed  him  one  of  .bis  chaplains  the  same  year. 
And  although  he  did  not  take  his  advice  any  more  now 
than  afterwards,  unless  when  it  suited  him,  he  extended 
his  friendship  to  the  man  w^ho  had  the  courage  to  coun- 
sel him  in  words  dictated  by  no  courtly  interest,  but  by 
a  manly  and  unshaken  conviction  of  their  truth.  Henry 
had,  with  the  sanction  of  a  convention  of  learned  men, 
issued  an  inhibition  against  Tyndale's  Scripture,  as  well  as 
all  English  books  either  containing  or  tending  to  any  mat- 
ters of  Scripture.  Latimer  was  one  of  this  convention  on 
the  part  of  the  university  of  Cambridge,  and  one  of  an 
excepting  minority  ^  to  the  advice  tendered  to  Henry,  and 
upon  which  he  acted.     Unsuccessful  in  his  previous  resist- 

1  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  this.  He  hhnself  clearly  implies  so  much  in 
his  letter  to  Henry  —  (Foxe);  and  there  is  no  possible  room  for  the  conjec- 
ture of  his  having  changed  his  mind  between  the  date  of  the  advice  to  the 
king  and  the  issuing  of  the  proclamation  in  December  of  the  same  year. 
The  statement  of  the  pi-oclamation,  that  all  gave  their  free  "assent,"  cannot 
be  held  as  valid  against  such  evidence,  and  every  presumption  to  the  con- 
trarv. 


LATIMER.  207 

ance  to  the  course  of  persecution,  he  addressed  an  ener- 
getic letter  to  the  king  on  his  own  behalf.  It  is  printed  at 
length  by  Foxe,  and  in  its  spirit,  power,  and  eloquence, 
heroic  yet  modest,  courageous  yet  respectful,  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  of  his  writings.  The  king  did  not  yield 
to  the  remonstrance.  "  It  did  not  prevail,  throngh  the 
iniquity  of  the  time,"  says  Foxe  in  his  usual  way ;  but 
so  far  from  displeasing  Henry,  it  seems  only  to  have 
excited  in  him  a  more  cordial  good-will  towards  the  re- 
former. 

In  the  year  1531,  Latimer  received  from  the  king,  at  the 
instance  of  Cromwell,  and  Dr.  Butts,  the  king's  physician, 
the  living  of  West  Kingion  in  Wiltshire,  and,  weary  of 
court,  he  gladly  retired  to  the  more  congenial  and  earnest 
labors  of  his  parish.  He  Avas  not  destined,  however,  to 
enjoy  quiet.  His  unresting  spirit  would  not  suffer  him  to 
confine  his  preaching  to  a  single  congregation;  end  being 
one  of  the  twelve  preachers  yearly  licensed  by  the  uni> 
versity  to  preach,  with  the  express  sanction  of  the  sover- 
eign, throughout  the  realm,  he  extended  his  diligence  to  all 
the  country  about.  He  travelled  to  Bristol,  to  London,  to 
Kent,  everywhere  preaching  the  truth.  Opportune,  impor- 
tune, tcmpestive,  to  use  the  language  ironically  applied  by 
him  to  the  Bishop  of  London,^  and  this,  too,  with  his  health 
greatly  weakened  and  impaired.  His  zeal  and  activity 
could  not  long  pass  without  notice.  Complaints  were  made 
against  him  by  the  country  priests ;  the  bishops  were  on 
the  watch  to  entrap  him ;  there  was  no  safety  for  them, 
and  no  peace,  they  felt,  so  long  as  he  was  at  large,  moving 
the  country  by  his  marvellous  eloquence.  They  were  tri- 
umphantly busy  just  now,  besides,  in  the  destruction  of 

1  Letter  to  Sir.  Ed.  Bayuton  — Foxe,  voL  vii.  p.  485. 


208         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

heretics.  Poor  Bilney,  having  wiped  out  the  disgrace  of 
his  fall ''  in  a  few  months  of  faithful  preaching  and  self- 
denial,  expiated  at  the  stake,  in  August  this  year,  his  Chris- 
tian heroism,  not  the  less  grand,  certainly,  that  it  Avas  the 
heroism  of  a  trembling  and  sensitive  nature.  Bayfield  and 
Tewkesbury  followed  before  the  expiry  of  the  year ;  and 
Bainham,  whose  affecting  interview  with  Latimer  is  pre- 
served in  Strype's  Memorials,  crowned  the  list  on  the  oth 
of  May,,  1532.  These  were  the  closing  months  of  the 
chancellorship  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  around  whose  memory 
still  lingers  the  dark  stain  of  these  dreadful  tragedies.  But 
the  appetite  of  the  bishops  Avas  not  yet  satisfied;  they  still 
hungered  for  victims;  and  Latimer  now  became  the  special 
object  of  their  vengeance.  Fortunately  they  were  so  far 
destined  to  a  disappointment. 

In  the  beginning  of  1532  he  was  summoned  to  appear 
before  Stokesley,  the  Bishop  of  London,  on  the  ground  of 
his  having  preached  in  St.  Abb's  Church  in  the  city  with- 
out the  bishop's  permission,  and,  moreover,  for  his  alleged 
defence  of  Bihiey,  and  his  cause.  His  fiiends  expressed 
anxiety  for  him,  and  he  himself  was  not  without  concern, 
as  he  knew  very  well  that  the  real  aim  of  the  bishop  was 
to  get  him  into  the  hands  of  the  Convocation,  and  to  deal 
with  him  summarily  for  his  free  speech  as  to  the  corrupt- 
ness of  the  clergy.  He  pleaded  in  excuse  the  length  of 
the  journey,  the  deep  winter,  and  the  miserable  condition 
of  his  health.-  He  appealed,  at  the  same  time,  to  his  own 
ordinary,  Sir  Ed.  Baynton,  the  chancellor  of  the  diocese  of 
Sarum,  and  it  is  from  this  long  and  interesting  letter  on  this 
subject  that  we  gather  these  facts,  and  the  state  of  bis 

1  He  had  been  induced  to  recant. 

2  "  Not  only  exei'cised  with  my  old  disease  in  my  head  and  side,  but  also 
with  new  —  both  the  colic  and  the  stone." — FoxE,  p.  485. 


LATIMER.  209 

feelings  at  this  time.  After  some  delay,  the  citation  was 
formally  issued,  and  Latimer  "  was  had  up  to  London, 
where  he  was  greatly  molested,  and  detained  a  long  time 
from  his  cure  at  home." 

The  circumstances  of  his  present  persecution,  and  espe- 
cially the  extent  to  which  he  yielded  after  being  repeatedly 
examined  and  remanded,  and  even  excommunicated  and 
imprisoned,  are  involved  in  some  obscurity.  His  trial  lasted 
on  through  January,  February,  March,  and  April,  and  was 
prosecuted  not  only  before  the  bishop  and  the  archbishop 
(Warham),  and  bishops  collectively,  but  also  before  the 
Convocation.  The  bishops  devised  a  series  of  articles,^ 
which  he  was  called  upon  to  subscribe,  and  which  he  at 
first  refused  to  do,  especially  objecting  to  two  of  them,  one 
of  which  concerned  the  power  of  the  Pope.  For  this  re- 
fusal he  was  pronounced  contumacious,  excommunicated, 
and  delivered  up  to  the  custody  of  Warham.  This  appears 
to  have  occurred  in  Convocation  on  the  1 1th  of  March.  On 
the  21st  it  was  resolved,  after  a  long  debate,  "  to  absolve 
him  from  the  sentence  of  excommunication  if  he  should 
subscribe  the  two  articles  in  question,"  and  he  is  repre- 
sented, on  the  same  authority,  as  making  his  appearance  at 
the  next  sitting,  and  kneehng  down  and  humbly  craving 
forgiveness,  confessing  that  he  ''misordered  himself  very 
far,  in  that  he  had  so  presumptuously  and  boldly  preached, 
reproving  certain  things  by  which  the  people  that  were  in- 
firm hath  taken  occasion  of  ill."  It  was  not  till  a  subse- 
quent day,  however,  the  10th  of  April,  that  he  is  stated  to 
have  subscribed  the  eleventh  and  fourteenth  articles,  to 
which  he  had  taken  exception ;  and  even  then  he  appears 
to  have  been  in  difficulty,  owing  to  some  further  matter 

'  FOXE,  vol.  vii.  p.  458. 

18* 


210         LEADERS     OF    THE     REFORMATION. 

having  been  presented  against  him,  arising  out  of  a  letter 
he  had  written  to  a  graduate  at  Cambridge.  It  was  then 
that  he  appealed  to  the  king ;  and  the  Convocation  Vv^as 
given  to  understand  by  a  message  conveyed  through  Gard- 
iner, Bishop  of  Winchester,  that  it  was  not  desirable  to 
proceed  to  further  extremities  although  the  disposal  of  the 
case  was  still  left  in  their  hands.  The  end  of  the  affair 
■was,  that,  after  a  farther  and  more  special  submission,  he 
was  relieved  of  all  penalties,  and  "  taken  into  favor  again 
at  the  special  request  of  the  king,"  although  with  grudging 
and  protest  on  the  part  of  certain  of  the  bishops  who  did 
not  think  that  his  submission  implied  any  "renunciation  of 
his  errors,"  as  was  usual  in  such  cases. ^ 

Latinier  returned  to  his  parish,  but  still  not  to  rest.  Ene- 
mies rose  up  on  all  sides  against  him,  as  he  tells  us  in  a 
letter  to  his  friend  Morice  ;  for  it  is  to  this  period  that  the 
letter  seems  to  refer.  Certain  priests,  who  at  first  had  de- 
sired and  welcomed  him,  now  actively  sought  to  stay  his 
preaching  because  he  was  not  in  possession  of  the  bishop's 
license.  They  procured  certain  preachers  "to  blatter 
against  him,"  and  especially  one  Hubberdin,  who  distin- 
guished himself  by  his  empty  violence  and  ridiculous  zeal 


1  This  account  is  founded  upon  Wilkins'  Concilia,  as  quoted  in  the  Notes 
in  Wordswortli's  Ecclesiastical  Biography,  vol.  iii.  pp.  98,  99.  It  seems  to 
present  the  most  minute  and  faithful  account  of  the  matter,  directly  founded 
on  the  proceedings  of  Convocation;  and  Foxe's  belief  evidently  is,  that  Lati- 
mer submitted  and  subscribed  the  articles,  although  he  is  reluctant  to  admit 
the  idea  of  his  retractation.  Mr.  Froude  (vol.  ii,  p.  106)  apparently  does  not 
understand  that  Latimer's  submission  went  so  far,  but  calls  in  the  interposi- 
tion of  the  king  at  a  previous  stage.  Latimer's  own  account  of  his  exami- 
nation before  the  bishops  is  found  in  a  sermon  preached  by  him  at  Stamford, 
many  years  after,  in  1550.  It  is  very  characteristic,  and  proves  the  unscru- 
pulousness  of  his  enemies,  but  it  does  not  throw  any  light  on  the  course  of 
his  trial.  —  Sermons,  p.  294,  quoted  by  Mr.  Froude,  vol.  ii.  pp.  105,  106. 


LATIMER.  211 

against  the  reformer.  Foxe  has  given  so  comical  an  ac- 
count of  this  man  and  his  preaching,  that  we  cannot  refrain 
from  quoting  it ;  it  may  serve  to  give  us  a  ghmpsc  of  the 
ludicrous  features  that  mingled  themselves  with  the  tragi- 
cal shadows  of  the  great  struggle  that  was  now  proceeding 
in  England.  Every  cause,  for  the  most  part,  has  its  buf- 
foon, —  a  man  of  "  no  great  learning,  nor  yet  of  stable  wit" 
(as  Latimer  characterized  Hubberdin),  but  who  makes  up 
for  better  qualities  by  uproarious  zeal,  and  stands  ferward 
in  virtue  of  his  simple  absurdity  and  grotesque  officious - 
ness.  In  neither  Germany  nor  England  does  Popery  seem 
at  this  crisis  to  have  lacked  such  supporters. 

"Forasmuch  as  mention  has  been  made,"  says  Foxe,^  "of 
Hubberdin,  an  old  divine  of  Oxford,  a  right  painted  Phari- 
see, and  a  great  stray er  abroad  in  all  quarters  of  the  realm, 
to  deface  and  impeach  the  springing  of  God's  holy  gospel, 
something  should  be  added  more  touching  that  man,  whose 
doings  and  pageants,  if  they  might  be  described  at  large,  it 
were  as  good  as  any  interlude  for  the  reader  to  behold. 
.  .  .  But  because  the  man  is  now  gone,  to  spare  therefore 
the  dead,  this  shall  be  enough  for  example's  sake  for  all 
Christian  men  necessarily  to  observe,  —  how  the  said  Hub- 
berdin, after  his  long  railing  in  all  places  against  Luther, 
Melancthon,  Zwinglius,  John  Frith,  Tyndale,  Latimer,  and 
other  like  professors,  —  riding  in  his  long  gown  down  to  the 
horse's  heels,  like  a  pharisee,  or  rather  like  a  sloven,  dirtcd 
up  to  the  horse's  belly  —  after  his  forged  tales  and  fables, 
dialogues,  dreams,  dancings,  hoppings,  and  leapings,  with 
other  like  histrionical  toys  and  gestures  used  in  the  pulpit, 
at  last  riding  by  a  church  side  where  the  youth  of  the 

^  Vol.  vil.  p.  477.  —  Strype's  Account,  vol.  i.  p.  245,  is  of  the  same  char- 
acter, only  with  the  ludicrous  features  less  prominent. 


212    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

parish  •were  dancing  in  the  churchyard,  suddenly  hghling 
from  his  horse,  he  came  into  the  church,  and  there  causing 
the  bell  to  toll  in  the  people,  thought,  instead  of  a  fit  of 
mirth,  to  give  them  a  sermon  of  dancing :  in  the  which 
sermon,  after  he  had  jiatched  up  certain  common  texts  out 
of  the  Scripture,  and  then  coming  to  the  doctors,  first  to 
Augustine,  then  to  Ambrose,  so  to  Jerome,  and  Gregory, 
Chrysostome,  and  other  doctors,  had  made  every  one  of 
them  (after  his  dialogue  manner)  by  name,  to  answer  to 
his  call,  and  to  sing  after  his  tune  against  Luther,  Tyndale, 
Latimer,  and  other  heretics,  as  he  called  them ;  at  last,  to 
show  a  perfect  harmony  of  all  these  doctors  together,  as  he 
made  them  before  to  sing  after  his  tune,  so  now  to  make 
them  dance  after  his  pipe,  first  he  called  out  Christ  and  his 
apostles,  then  the  doctors  and  seniors  of  the  church,  as  in  a 
round  ring,  all  to  dance  together,  with  pipe  of  Hiibberdin, 
Now  dance  Peter,  Paul ;  now  dance  Augustine,  Ambrose, 
Jerome  ;  and  then  old  Hubberdin,  as  he  was  dancing  with 
his  doctors  lustily  in  the  pulpit,  how  he  stampt  and  took 
on  I  cannot  tell,  but  crash  quoth  the  pulpit,  down  cometh 
the  dancer,  and  there  lay  Hubberdin,  not  dancing,  but 
sprawling  in  the  midst  of  his  audience,  where  altogether 
he  brake  not  his  neck,  yet  he  so  brake  his  leg  and  bruised 
his  old  bones  that  he  never  came  in  pulpit  more." 

More  prosperous  days,  however,  were  about  to  dawn 
an  Latimer.  Old  Warham,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
died  this  year;  and  in  the  following  year  (1533)  Cranmer 
was  elevated  to  the  primacy.  This  distinguished  prelate, 
destined  to  take  so  active  a  lead  in  the  progress  of  the  Re- 
formation, to  carry  it  on  with  his  own  advance  of  opinion 
to  a  higher  and  more  Scrij)tural  expression,  and  finally  to 
crown  the  labors  of  his  life  by  martyrdom  along  with  Lati- 
mer and  Ridley,  had  been  a  Cambridge  student  of  about 


LATIMER.  ZL6 

tlie  same  standing  as  our  reformer.^  Whether  during  their 
residence  at  Cambridge  they  had  beeu  frieuds,  does  not 
appear.  Cranmer,  at  any  rale,  knew  well  Latimer's  worth. 
His  honesty,  energy,  and  eloquence  were  such  as  at  once 
drew  forth  his  appreciation  and  honorable  regard  in  his  new 
position.  It  was  now  no  longer,  therefore,  a  time  of  p-er- 
secution  wilh  the  unresting  rector  of  West  Kington  ;  the 
frow^n  of  episco})al  authority  lay  on  him  no  more,  and  friars 
and  priests,  Ilubberdin  and  Dr.  Powel  of  Salisbury,  and  all 
his  oiher  enemies,  were  forced  to  retreat,  or  even  to  yield 
to  the  powers  noAV  intrnsted  to  him.  At  the  instance  and 
request  of  Latimer,  we  are  told  that  "  Cranmer  was  in  the 
habit  of  licensing  divers  to  preach  within  his  province;" 
and  in  his  own  district  the  reformer  was«empowered  to  deal 
with  preachers,  and  even  to  withdraw  their  licenses  if  he 
saw  fit  to  do  so.^  Latimer,  moreover,  was  recalled  to  the 
discharge  of  his  previous  dnties  at  the  court,  and  admitted 
to  preach  before  the  king  on  all  the  Wednesdays  of  Lent, 
1534. 

This  renewed  intercourse  with  his  sovereign  probably 
served  to  strengthen  Henry's  liking  for  him,  and  to  bring 
a'ooiit  the  importan.t  result  which  followed  in  the  subse- 
quent year.  Cromw^ell  is  mentioned  by  Foxe  as  partic- 
ularly concerned  in  Latimer's  promotion  to  a  bishopric,  and 
we  may  well  believe  so.  The  astute  secretary  and  vicar- 
general,  the  enemy  of  monks,  and  the  intrepid  friend  of  the 
new  movement  in  all  its  directions,  must  have  recognized 
a  congenial  spirit  and  fellow-laborer  in  the  great  preacher. 

1  Cranmer  was  born  at  Aslacton,  in  Nottinghamshire,  in  1489,  and  entered 
Jesus  College,  Cambridge,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  only  a  year  in  advance  of 
Latimer  in  each  case.  He  took  his  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  in  1523,  just 
in  the  heat  of  Latimer's  first  reforming  zeal  as  a  university  preacher. 

'^  Cranmer's  Remains,  edit.  Jeiikyns,  vol.  i.  p.  121. 


214         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFOUMATION". 

They  were  worthy  alhes,  and  trode  with  equal  courage, 
although  swayed  by  somewhat  different  impulses,  the  same 
perilous  path  terminating  in  death,  as  all  noble  work  alike 
did  in  that  strange  and  unhappy  reign. 

Latimer  was  consecrated  Bishop  of  AVorcester  in  the 
autumn  of  1535,  and  in  the  June  of  the  following  year  we 
behold  him  in  a  position  perhaps,  save  the  last  of  all,  the 
grandest  and  most  trying  in  his  whole  life.  The  Convoca- 
tion asseaibled  on  the  9th  of  Jmie,  1536,  the  nation  heav- 
ing with  the  excitement  of  coming  change  ;  the  clergy 
sullen  with  feelings  of  affront  and  injury;  the  great  ques- 
tion of  reform  in  all  its  branches  staring  them  in  the  face. 
The  fabric  of  ecclesiastical  abuse  had  been  already  rudely 
shaken,  but  it  was  obvious  that  things  could  not  remain  as 
they  v/ere,  and  that  further  and  more  extensive  invasions 
of  clerical  privilege  must  come.  It  was  at  the  request  of 
Cranmer  that  Latimer,  in  these  circumstances,  undertook 
the  office  of  opening  the  Convocation  with  two  sermons, 
which  have  been  preserved  ;  and  which,  viewed  in  the  light 
of  the  situation  in  which  they  were  uttered,  are  among  the 
boldest  sermons  ever  preached.  They  ring  fresh  and  pow- 
erful in  our  hearts  as  we  read  them  now,  and  think  of  the 
scowling  faces  that  must  have  looked  upon  the  preacher 
from  priest's  hood  and  abbot's  mitre.  Mr.  Fronde  has  pic- 
tured the  scene  with  such  rare  spirit  and  grouping  of  im- 
pressive effects,  that  we  cannot  venture  to  touch  it  save  in 
his  words. 

"  There  were  assembled  in  St.  Paul's  on  this  occasion, 
besides  the  bishops,"  he  says,  "mitred  abbots,  meditating 
the  treason  for  which,  before  many  months  were  past,  their 
quartered  limbs  would  be  rotting  by  the  highways ;  earnest 
sacramentarians  making  ready  for  the  stake ;  the  spirits  of 
the  two  ages,  the  past  and  the  future,  in  fierce  collision ; 


LATIMER.  215 

and  above  them  all,  in  his  vicar-general's  chair,  sat  Crom- 
well, the  angry  waters  lashing  round  him,  but,  proud  and 
powcifiil,  lording  over  the  storm.  The  present  liour  was 
hi^.  The  enemies'  turn  in  due  time  would  come  also.  .  .  . 
The  mass  had  been  sung ;  the  roll  of  the  organ  had  died 
away.  It  was  the  time  for  the  sermon,  and  Hugh  Latimer, 
Bishop  of  Worcester,  rose  into  tlie  pulpit.  Nine-tenths  of 
all  those  eyes  which  were  then  fixed  on  him,  would  have 
glistened  with  delight  could  they  have  looked  instead  upon 
his  burning.  The  whole  crowd  of  passionate  men  were 
compelled  by  a  changed  world  to  listen  quietly  while  he 
shot  his  bitter  arrows  at  them.  His  object  on  the  present 
occasion  was  to  tell  the  clergy  what  especially  he  thought 
of  themselves  ;  and  Latimer  was  a  plain  S|:)eaker.  They 
had  no  good  opinion  of  him.  His  opinion  of  them  was 
very  bad.  His  text  was  from  the  16th  chapter  of  St.  Luke's 
Gospel :  '  The  children  of  this  Avorld  are  wiser  in  their  gen- 
eration than  the  children  of  light.'  "  He  then  presents  his 
readers  with  a  summary  of  the  sermons,  which,  however, 
we  shall  not  attempt  to  do.  Latimer's  words,  when  they 
are  telling,  do  not  bear  to  be  summarized,  however  they 
may  be  extracted.  One  must  read  them  in  their  natural 
quaintness  and  color  in  order  to  feel  their  just -force,  —  the 
vivid  and  rapid  impress  which  they  make  upon  the  mind, — 
like  a  rain  of  rattling  hail  upon  the  ground. 

The  conclusion  of  the  second  and  longer  sermon,  rising 
into  a  strain  of  sweeping  ironical  urgency  that  must  at  once 
have  awed  and  galled  the  hearts  of  many  who  heard  him, 
will  afford  a  good  specimen  of  their  boldness  and  power. 
"  If  there  be  nothing  to  be  amended  and  redressed,  my 
lords,  be  of  good  cheer  —  be  merry — and  at  the  least,  be- 
cause we  have  nothing  else  to  do.  Let  us  reason  the  mat- 
ter how  we  may  be  richer ;  let  us  fall  to  some  pleasant 


216         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

communication.  After,  let  us  go  home  even  as  good  as  we 
came  hither,  —  that  is,  right-begotten  children  of  the  world, 
and  utterly  worldlings.  And  while  we  live  here,  let  us  all 
mpcke  bone  cheer  (bonne  chere);  for  after  this  life  there  is 
small  pleasure,  little  mirth  for  us  to  hope  for,  if  now  there 
be  nothing  to  be  changed  in  our  fashions.  Let  us  not  say, 
as  St.  Peter  did,  'Our  end  approacheth  nigh:'  this  is  an 
heavy  hearing ;  but  let  us  say  as  the  evil  servant  said,  '  It 
will  be  long  ere  my  master  come.'  This  is  pleasant.  Let 
us  beat  our  fellows  ;  let  us  eat  and  drink  with  drunkards. 
Surely  as  oft  as  we  do  not  take  away  the  abuse  of  things, 
so  oft  we  beat  our  fellows.  As  oft  as  we  give  not  the  peo- 
ple their  true  food,  so  oft  we  beat  our  fellows.  As  oft  ns 
we  let  them  die  in  superstition,  so  oft  Ave  beat  them.  To 
be  short,  as  oft  as  we  blind  lead  them  blind,  so  oft  we  beat, 
and  grievously  beat,  our  fellows.  When  we  welter  in  pleas- 
ure and  idleness,  then  we  eat  and  drink  with  drunkards. 
But  God  will  come,  God  will  come  ;  he  will  not  tarry  long 
av/ay.  He  will  come  upon  such  a  day  as  we  nothing  lock 
for  him,  and  at  such  hour  as  we  know  not.  He  will  come 
and  cut  us  to  pieces ;  he  will  reward  us  as  he  doth  the 
hypocrites.  He  will  set  us  where  wailing  shall  be,  my 
brethren ;  where  gnashing  of  teeth  shall  be,  my  brethren. 

'And  let  here  be  the  end  of  our  tragedy,  if  ye  will 

But  if  ye  will  not  thus  be  vexed,  be  ye  not  the  children  of 
the  world.  If  we  will  not  die  eternally,  live  not  worldly. 
Come,  go  to,  leave  the  love  of  your  profit,  study  for  the 
glory  and  profit  of  Christ :  seek  in  your  consultations  such 
things  as  pertain  to  Christ,  and  bring  forth  at  the  last  some- 
what that  may  please  Christ.  Feed  ye  tenderly,  with  all 
diligence,  the  flock  of  Christ.  Preach  truly  the  word  of 
God.  Love  the  light,  walk  in  the  light,  and  so  be  ye  the 
children  of  the  light  while  ye  are  in  the  world,  that  ye  may 


LATIMER.  217 

shine  in  the  world  that  is  to  come,  bright  as  the  Son  with 
the  Father,  the  Son  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  whom  be  all 
honor,  praise,  and  glory.  —  Amen." 

The  work  of  the  Convocation  thus  opened,  was  in  many 
respects  memorable.  In  this  year  of  1536,  the  same  year 
in  which  Calvin  entered  Geneva,  the  English  Preformation 
touched  its  highest  point  under  Henry  VIII.  Cranmer  and 
the  king  were  now  united  hand  in  hand,  and,  notwithstand- 
ing the  gloomy  displeasure  of  many  of  the  clergy,  a  great 
advance  was  made.  The  opening  sermons  were  indeed 
followed  up  by  a  memorial  to  the  king  on  the  subject  of 
prevailing  heresies,  containing  several  thrusts  at  Latimer's 
supposed  opinions.  This  sufficiently  showed  the  temper 
of  the  Convocation ;  but  it  met  in  Henry,  for  the  moment, 
a  temper  equally  excited,  and  far  more  authoritative.  He 
addressed  to  them,  in  reply,  a  series  of  articles  of  religion, 
imposed  with  a  view  to  the  settlement  of  differences. 
These  articles  (the  king's  own  composition,  according  to  Mr. 
Froude^)  mark  a  decided  progress  of  opinion.  They  still 
retain  the  cherished  doctrine  of  the  corporeal  presence  in 
the  Eucharist,  to  which  Henry's  mind  clung  with  a  faithful 
tenacity,  and  in  which  both  Cranmer  and  Latimer  were  as 

1  The  evidence  seems  very  slight  (except  on  hi^  ground  of  believing  im- 
plicitly in  state  documents)  on  Avhich  Mr.  Fi'oude  come.?  to  this  conclusion 
(vol.  iii.  p.  G7).  Cranmer,  I  should  think,  was  the  more  likely  author  of  the 
"  Fourteen  Articles,"  although  the  king  may  well  have  had  a  share  in  them, 
and  even  "  put  his  own  pen  to  the  book  "  on  the  subject.  But,  supposing  the 
Articles  were  the  production  of  the  king  himself,  the  inference  Mr.  Froude 
would  found  upon  this  fact  as  to  the  moral  position  of  the  king  at  the 
moment  in  relation  to  Ann  Boleyn's  death  (he  had  been  married  only  three 
weeks  to  Jane  Seymour),  is,  to  say  the  least,  of  a  very  uncertain  character. 
That  a  man  is  to  be  held  less  guilty  of  a  great  crime  because  he  can  busy 
himself,  some  few  weeks  after,  with  the  dictation  of  a  series  of  theological 
articles,  is  certainly  neither  warranted  by  the  facts  of  evidence  nor  the 
workings  of  human  nature. 

19 


218    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

yet  contented  to  rest ;  but  the  great  Protestant  doctrine  of 
justification  by  faith  is  plainly  and  comprehensively  as- 
serted ;  purgatory,  in  any  special  sense,  and  as  the  basis  of 
the  gross  papal  corruption  which  had  so  widely  prevailed, 
denied;  while  prayer  for  souls  departed  is  merely  com- 
mended as  a  good  and  charitable  deed.  "  The  Articles 
were  debated  in  Convocation,  and  passed,  because  it  was 
the  king's  will.  No  party  was  pleased.  The  Protestants 
exclaimed  against  the  countenance  given  to  superstition  ; 
the  Anglo- Catholics  lamented  the  visible  taint  of  heresy, 
the  reduced  number  of  the  sacraments,  the  doubtful  lan- 
guage upon  purgatory,  and  the  silence,  dangerously  sig- 
nificant, on  the  nature  of  the  priesthood."^  They  were 
signed,  however,  by  all  sides,  and  remain  of  great  interest 
to  this  day,  as  the  "  first  authoritative  statement  of  doctrine 
in  the  Anglican  Church." 

Besides  the  articles  thus  passed,  the  power  of  the  Pope 
to  call  general  councils  was  expressly  denied ;  directions 
were  issued  for  the  instruction  of  the  people  in  the  Pater- 
noster, the  Apostles'  Creed,  and  the  Commandments,  lately 
published  in  England ;  and  as  the  crowning  and  most  im- 
portant act  of  all,  the  English  Bible  was  authorized  in 
every  parish.  Every  church  was  "  to  provide  a  book  of 
the  whole  Bible  in  Latin  and  English,  and  lay  the  same 
in  the  quire  for  every  man  that  will  to  read  and  look 
thereon."^ 

On  from  the  point  that  we  have  now  reached,  where  we 
see  Latimer  in  a  distinct  attitude  of  authority,  as  it  were, 
heading  the  Anglican  reform  movement,  it  might  be  sup- 
posed that  we  would  be  able  to  trace  his  career  in  a  clear 

1  Froude's  Hislory,  vol.  iii.  p.  74.  r-     ^'^ 

^  Tlie  Bible  thus  authorized  for  popular  perusal  was  Coverdale's  edition 
of  Tyndale,  sanctioned  by  Cranmer.  —  See  Froude,  vol.  iii.  pp.  78,  83.? 


LATIMER.  219 

light.  This,  however,  is  not  the  case.  After  his  appear- 
ance in  the  Convocation  of  1536,  he  withdraws  again  from 
public  view,  and  his  activity  is  mainly  traceable  in  quiet 
works  of  reform  within  his  own  diocese.  It  is  characteristic 
of  him,  in  comparison  with  all  the  other  reformers,  that  he 
nowhere  takes  an  active  part  in  the  political  changes  which 
attended  the  course  of  the  Reformation.  There  is  reason, 
indeed,  to  think  that,  not  only  now,  but  afterwards,  he  was 
a  chief  friend  and  coLmsellor  of  Cranmer,  as  he  was  a  fre- 
quent resident  of  Lambeth ;  and  his  letters  to  Cromwell 
show  what  a  lively  interest  he  cherished  in  all  that  v/as 
going  on,  and  what  constant  and  ready  service  he  con- 
tinued to  render  to  the  secretary.  Still  he  does  not,  even 
during  the  time  that  he  continued  to  hold  his  bishopric, 
stand  out  in  any  sense  as  a  political  leader.  His  influence 
seems  everywhere  present,  but  it  does  not  obtrude  itself, 
save  at  isolated  points,  upon  public  notice.  We  are  the 
less  reluctant,  therefore,  to  be  obliged  to  sum  up  in  a  very 
brief  space  the  main  facts  of  his  future  life,  and  to  charac- 
terize them  in  veiy  general  terms. 

First  of  all,  we  see  him  devoting  himself  with  great  zeal 
and  diligence  to  his  special  duty  as  Bishop  of  Worcester. 
This  is  mainly  the  view  we  get  of  him  in  the  vague  and  des- 
ultory notices  of  Foxe.  His  life  is  represented  as  a  constant 
round  of  "  stud}^,  readiness,  and  continual  carefulness  in 
teaching,  preaching,  exhorting,  writing,  correcting,  and  re- 
forming, either  as  his  ability  would  serve,  or  else  the  time 
would  bear."  This  was  his  true  nature  ;  he  was  eminently 
practical,  wise,  and  prudent — doing  what  he  could,  although 
"  the  days  then  were  so  dangerous  and  variable  that  he 
coidd  not  in  all  things  do  that  he  would."  His  zeal  he  re- 
served for  the  pulpit.  All  his  episcopal  acts  were  charac- 
terized by  a  cautious  wisdom  and  moderation.     Where  he 


220         LEADERS     OF     THE    REFORMATION. 

could  not  remove  corruptions  altogether,  he  did  his  best  to 
nmend  them  :  he  so  wronght  that  they  should  be  used  with 
as  little  hurt  and  as  much  profit  as  might  be.  Holy  water 
and  holy  bread,  for  example,  must  still  be  dispeused. 
Neither  the  priestly  nor  the  popular  feeling  could  under- 
stand or  tolerate  their  disuse.  But  he  prepared  a  few  ploin 
verses,  embodying  a  significant  Christian  lesson  in  each 
case,  which  he  instructed  the  clergy  of  his  diocese  to  repeat 
to  the  people  on  delivering  the  old  symbols.^ 

In  such  sort  of  work  we  see  the  genuine  spirit  of  the 
English  Reformation,  —  proceeding  not  from  any  dogmatic 
or  comprehensive  principle  of  an  ideal  right  or  good  in  the 
church,  but  simply  working  onwards  under  a  practical 
Christian  impulse.  The  "  sparkling  relics  "  of  the  old  su- 
perstition are  got  rid  of,  for  the  most  part,  gradually ;  and 
where,  as  in  the  case  of  some  of  the  most  flagrant  eccle- 
siastical impostures,"  we  see  them  fall  violently,  even  the 
violence  is  legalized,  —  there  is  an  order  preserved  even  in 
it  ;  and  the  popular  feeling,  where  it  comes  into  play,  is 
stimulated  by  a  just  indignation  at  the  grossness  of  the 
dehision  practised  upon  it,  rather  than  by  any  polemic  and 
anti-idolatrous  excitement. 

Latimer's  cheerful  labors  in  his  diocese  were  no  doubt 
most  to  his  heart.  A  shadow  falls  upon  him  so  soon  as  we 
begin  to  contemplate  him  in  any  other  capacity.  He  is  in 
trouble,  but  ill  satisfied  with  his  work  ;  and,  worse  than  all, 
he  is  a  sharer  —  "\ve  gather  from  his  own  letter  on  the 
subject  —  a  reluctant  sharer  in  one,  at  least,  of  the  most 
tragic  and  pathetic  of  the  miserable  and  contradictory 
martyrdoms  which  signalize  the  period. 

FOXE,  vol.  vii.  p.  4G1, 
2  As,  for  'example,  the  blood  of  Hailes  (with  the  investigation  into  the 
nature  of  which  Latimer  was  connected,  Rema'ms,  407),  and  the  Rood  of 
Boxley.  — >See  Froude,  vol.  iii.  pp.  2S6,  287. 


LATIMER.  221 

III  1537  he  was  engaged,  along  with  his  brethren  of  the 
Episcopal  bench  and  other  divines,  in  the  publication  of 
the  book  known  as  The  Institution  of  a  Christian  Man,  —  a 
book  designed  as  a  religious  manual  for  the  times.  It  con- 
sisted of  an  exposition  of  the  Creed,  the  Sacraments,  the 
Ten  Commandments,  and  the  Lord's  Prayer,^  and  was 
characterized  by  a  mild  and  temperate  spirit  of  devotion, 
and  great  beauty  of  composition.  Latimer,  however,  was 
but  indifferently  pleased  with  its  doctrines,  wliich  formecT 
a  reaction  rather  than  an  advance  upon  the  articles  of  the 
previous  year.  The  bishops  were  obviously,  from  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  writes  on  the  subject  to  Cromwell,^  greatly 
divided  about  it.  "  It  is  a  troublous  thing,"  he  says,  "  to 
agree  upon  a  doctrine  in  things  of  such  controversy  with 
judgment  of  such  diversity,  every  man  (I  trust)  meaning 
well,  and  yet  not  all  meaning  one  way.  ...  If  there  be 
anything  either  uncertain  or  impure,  I  have  good  hope  that 
the  king's  highness  will  separare  quicquid  est  veteris  fer- 
mcnti;  at  least,  may  give  it  some  note  that  it  may  appear 
he  perceiveth,  though  he  do  tolerate  it  for  a  time,  —  so 
giving  place  for  a  season  to  the  frailty  and  gross  capacity 
of  his  subjects." 

It  is  in  the  following  year  (1538)  that  we  find  him  asso- 
ciated with  the  martyrdom  of  Friar  Forrest.  Forrest  had 
been  prior  of  the  Obsei-\^ants'  Convent,  at  Greenwich.  His 
main  offence,  like  that  of  Sir  Thomas  More  and  others, 
was  resistance  to  the  Royal  Supremacy  Act.  He  appears 
to  have  submitted,  and  been  pardoned,  and  then  again  to 
have  recanted  his  submission.    The  pecuharity  in  his  case, 

^  I  have  not  examined  the  book ;  but  the  descriptions  given  of  it,  very  much 
suggest  a  corresponding  book  connected  with  the  Scottish  Reformation  — 
viz.,  Archbishop  Hamilton's  Catechism, 

"  Remains,  p.  380. 

19* 


099 


LEADERS     OP    THE    KEFORJIATION. 


as  Mr.  Froucle  has  very  well  explained,  is,  that  he  was 
finally  condemned,  not  under  the  treason  law,  which  might 
have  been  done  with  some  show  of  justice,  but  under  the 
law  of  heresy.  Certain  monstrous  articles,  by  which  his 
conduct  was  sought  to  be  brought  under  this  latter  lavv^, 
■were  devised  against  him  by  Cranmer,  and  he  was  sen- 
tenced to  the  fate  of  heretics  in  its  most  aggravated  form. 
He  was  literally  roasted  alive  in  an  iron  cage.  One  shud- 
ders to  read  the  account  of  it,  and  to  think  that  the  names 
of  both  Cranmer  and  Latimer  remain  associated  with  so 
foul  an  atrocity.  For  Cranmer's  share  in  it  there  can  be 
found  no  excuse,  save  the  usual  one  of  the  spirit  of  the 
times.  Latimer's  connection  with  it  appears  to  have  been 
more  accidental.  He  was  appointed  by  Cromwell  to  preach 
the  sermon  on  the  occasion ;  and  there  is  a  strange  sad- 
ness in  the  way  he  writes  about  it,  —  his  unrelenting  hu- 
mor playing,  like  a  wintry  gleam,  round^  the  tragic  story 
"  And,  sir,  if  it  be  your  pleasure,  as  it  is,  that  I  shall  play 
the  fool  after  my  customable  manner  when  Forrest  shall 
suffer,  I  would  wish  that  my  stage  stood  near  unto  Forrest; 
for  I  would  endeavor  myself  so  to  content  the  people  that 
therewith  I  might  also  convert  Forrest,  God  so  helping,  or 
rather  altogether  working.  Wherefore  I  would  that  he 
should  hear  what  I  shall  say,  si  forte,  etc.  If  he  could  yet 
with  heart  return  to  his  abjuration,  I  would  wish  his  par- 
don :  such  is  my  foolishness."^  He  is  moved  obviously  for 
the  unhappy  wretch,  and  the  work  is  painful  to  him ;  but 
he  cannot  help  himself,  and  the  utterance  of  pity  almost 
dies  on  his  lips,  as  if  it  were  something  to  be  ashamed  of.- 
"  Hard  times,"  indeed  I  (as  Foxe  complains),  which  could 
so  lock  up  the  warm  impulses  in  Latimer's  honest  heart. 

1  Remains,  p.  391. 

2  Froude,  vol.  iii.  p.  295.  —  See  his  vivid  description  of  the  martyrdom 


LATIMER.  223 

An  ecclesiastical  system  which  sought  to  prop  itself  by- 
such  means,  was  plainly  in  a  very  fluctuating  and  unstable 
condition.  It  was  moved  to  and  fro,  in  fact,  by  every 
changing  impulse  of  the  royal  temper;  and  this  temper  re- 
flected the  agitated  spirit  of  the  times.  To  regard  Henry's 
changes  as  mere  brutal  caprice,  according  to  the  long-pre- 
vaihng  traditionary  views  of  his  character,  is  probably  what 
few  would  now  do  ;  but  to  try  and  find  in  them,  with  Mr. 
Froude,  any  clear  principle  of  conviction  or  intelligent 
guidance  throughout,  is  ecpially  absurd  and  incredible. 
Henry  was  true  to  one  thing,  and  one.  thing  alone,  —  his 
own  supposed  interest.  This,  in  conjunction  with  his 
strong  national  feehng,  Avas  in  many  cases  a  sufiiciently 
equitable  rule  of  statecraft ;  but  to  identify  the  royal  at  all 
points  with  the  national  interest,  and  to  presume  that 
Henry  acted  from  the  higher  principle,  involves  an  amaz- 
ing stretch  of  credulity.  The  king  of  Mr.  Fronde's  history 
is  not  the  monster  of  the  old  and  uncritical  tradition ;  but 
he  is  not,  even  on  his  own  evidence,  in  the  least  the  hero 
that  he  supposes  him  to  be. 

On  the  present  occasion  it  is  easy  to  understand  how  a 
reaction  sets  in.  The  northern  insurrections  had  proved 
how  strong  was  the  hold  which  the  old  superstitions  still 
had  upon  the  hearts  of  the  people.  The  king  himself,  hav- 
ing secured  his  object  against  Kome,  was  disposed  to  cling 
to  the  Catholic  doctrine  in  its  completeness.  It  was  very 
natural,  therefore,  that  a  party  should  spring  up,  attaching 
itself,  on  the  one  hand,  to  the  Royal  Supremacy  Act,  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  very  strongly  to  the  old  ecclesiastical 
tradition,  —  a  party  which  has  received  the  distinctive  title 
of  Anglo- Cathohcs,  and  who  may  be  briefly  characterized 
as  doctrinally  Komanist,  but  ecclesiastically  Anglican.  This 
party  evidently  represented  a  strong  national  feehng.    The 


224         LEADERS     OF     THE    EEFORMATION. 

"  pilgrimage  of  grace,"  the  insurrections  of  Yorkshire  and 
Lancashire,  testified  to  the  strength  of  this  feehng ;  it  was 
such  even  as  seriously  to  affect  the  stabihty  of  the  throne  >" 
and  Henry,  true  to  the  instinct  of  serving  himself  by  a 
proper  balance  of  parties,  saw  fit  at  this  crisis  to  throw  the 
weight  of  his  influence  into  the  rising  party,  headed  in  the 
church  by  the  well-known  names  of  Gardiner  and  Bonner. 
The  result  of  this  was  the  six  articles  of  1539,^  which  undid, 
as  far  as  possible,  the  work  of  the  fourteen  articles  pre- 
viously passed,  and  sought  to  check  the  reforming  impulse 
communicated  by  them.  Cranmer  labored  with  all  his 
might  to  defeat  them,  but  in  vain  ;  and  so  soon  as  they 
were  confirmed,  Latimer  resigned  his  bishopric. 

During  the  remainder  of  Henry's  reign,  Latimer  lived  in 
great  privacy.  At  first,  indeed,  he  suffered  a  mild  impris- 
onment in  the  house  of  Dr.  Sampson,  the  Bishop  of  Chi- 
chester; he  then  appears  to  have  been  permitted  to  retire 
to  the  country,  where  he  received  an  injury  from  the  fall  of 
a  tree,  and  coming  up  to  London  for  medical  advice,  "  he 
was  molested  and  troubled  by  the  bishops  ; "  and  finally,  in 
1546,  just  before  the  close  of  Henry's  reign,  he  was  brought 
before  the  Privy  Council,  and  cast  into  the  Tower,  where 
he  remained  prisoner  till  the  time  that  "blessed  King  Ed- 
ward entered  his  crown."  ^  Such  is  the  brief  sum  of  all 
we  know  of  this  period  of  his  life.  Whether,  during  the 
time  he  was  at  liberty,  he  continued  to  preach,  is  not  indi- 
cated ;  probably  he  did  not.  His  imprisonment,  his  grow- 
ing infirmities,  and  the  dangers  around  him,  may  have 
damped  his  old  ardor,  and  kept  him  quiet.     That  he  con- 

'  They  rendered  it  penal  to  den}',  or  in  any  way  to  impugn,  transubstan- 
tiation,  communion  in  one  kind,  celibacy,  lawfulness  of  monastic  vows,  pri- 
vate masses,  auricular  confession. 

2  FoxE,  vol.  vii.  p.  463. 


LATIMER.  225 

sidered  his  own  life  in  danger  during  his  confinement,  he 
himself  tells  us.  He  had  a  great  interest,  he  says,  to  hear 
of  tlie  executions  in  the  city,  while  he  was  in  w^ard  with 
the  Bisliop  of  Chichester,  "because  I  looked  that  my  part 
should  have  been  herein.  I  looked  ever^^  day  to  be  called 
to  it  myself."  ^ 

With  the  accession  of  Edward  VI.  he  again  emerges  into 
public  view.  He  remains,  however,  true  to  his  old  charac- 
ter, and  not  only  does  not  mix  himself  up  with  politi- 
cal afiliirs,  bnt  declines  to  receive  back  his  bishopric,  which 
was  offered  to  him  in  the  second  year  of  Edward's  reign 
The  fact  that  this  offer  was  made  at  the  instance  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  in  consequence  of  an  address  from  its 
members,  gives  us  a  touching  glimpse  of  the  popularity  of 
the  great  preacher.  His  honest  character  and  eloquence 
had  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  mind  of  the  countr}'', 
and  it  finds  a  voice  in  this  notable  manner.  We  can  only 
guess  at  his  reasons  for  declining  an  offer  so  honorable  to 
him.  The  state  of  his  health,  and  the  conscientious  feel- 
ing of  inadequacy  to  the  multiplied  duties  that  would  de- 
volve upon  him,-  probably  form  the  explanation.  He  re- 
cognized beyond  doubt,  also,  that  preaching  w^as  his  pecu- 
liar vocation,  and  that  he  conld  do  more  good  to  the  cause 
of  the  Reformation  in  this  Avay  than  in  any  other.  He  de- 
voted himself,  therefore,  to  the  pulpit,  and  to  practical 
works  of  benevolence  on  behalf  of  the  poor  and  the  op- 
pressed.    Leaving  the  public  ordering  of  the  affairs  of  the 

1  Scrmojis,  p.  164. 

2  He  had,  as  everything  shoM\?,  a  strong  feehng  of  the  responsibility  of  the 
epi.-copal  office,  and  of  the  oppression  of  the  multiphed  duties  connected  with 
it.  Foxe  rehites  in  reference  to  his  previous  resignation  of  his  bishopric  — 
"  At  what  time  he  first  put  off  sih  rochet  in  his  chamber  among  his  friends, 
suddenly  he  gave  a  skip  on  the  floor  for  joy,  feeling  his  shoulder  so  light, 
and  being  discharged  (as  he  said)  of  such  a  heavy  bui'den." — Vol.  vii.  p.  463, 


226         LEADERS     OF    THE     REFORMATION. 

Reformation  to  others,  he  made  it  his  aim  to  arouse  in  all 
classes  a  practical  spirit  of  reform.  He  found  his  most 
natural  and  poAverful  source  of  influence  in  the  eloquence 
which  moved  congregated  thousands,  and  it  is  in  connec- 
tion with  this  eloquence  that  we  remember  him,  and  that 
his  name  has  become  historically  associated  with  the  reign 
of  Edward  VI.  It  is  as  a  preacher  above  all  that  he  lives 
before  us  among  the  other  great  actors  of  the  time.  The 
old  picture  represents  him  with  uplifted  arm  preaching  in 
Whitehall  Gardens,  in  front  of  the  young  monarch,  who  is 
seated  at  a  window,  while  a  dense  crowd  in  various  atti- 
tudes testifies  to  the  livel^-^  interest  which  greeted  his  ser- 
mons. "  In  the  same  place  of  the  inward  garden,"  says 
Foxe,  "which  was  before  applied  to  lascivious  and  courtly 
pastimes,  there  he  dispensed  the  fruitful  word  of  the  glori- 
ous gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  preaching  there  before  the  king 
and  his  whole  court,  to  the  edification  of  many."^  "VVe 
trace  him  besides  at  Stamford,  preaching  a  series  of  ser- 
mons on  the  Lord's  Prayer,  before  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk ; 
and  again  in  Lincolnshire,  and  at  Grimsthorpe.  "  In  this 
his  painful  travail  he  occupied  himself  all  King  EdAvard's 
days,  preaching  for  the  most  part  every  Sunday  twice,  to 
no  small  shame  of  all  other  loitering  aud  unpreaching  pre- 
lates, which  occupy  great  rooms  and  do  little  good ;  and 
that  so  much  more  to  their  shame,  because  he  being  a  sore 
bruised  man,  and  above  sixty-seven  years  of  age  [this  is 
an  exaggeration],  took  so  little  care  and  sparing  of  him- 
self to  do  the  people  good.  Not  to  speak  of  here  his  inde- 
fatigable travail,  and  diligence  in  his  own  private  studies ; 
who,  notwithstanding  both  his  years,  and  other  pains  in 
preaching,  every  morning  ordinarily,  winter  and  summer, 

•  Foxe,  vol.  vii.  p.  463. 


LATIMER.  227 

about  two  of  the  clock  in  the  morning,  was  at  his  book  most 
diligently.  So  careful  was  his  heart  of  the  preservation  of 
the  church,  and  the  good  success  of  the  gospel." 

Thus  Latimer  spent  those  years  of  blessing  to  Eng-Iand 
ere  the  evil  days  came,  whose  approach  he  seems  to  have 
foreseen;  for,  according  to  Foxe,  he  did  "most  evidently 
prophecy  all  these  kinds  of  plagues  which  afterwards 
ensued." 

With  the  lamented  death  of  Edward  he  felt  that  his 
work  ^vas  done,  and  that  he  had  only  to  pre})are  himself 
for  the  fate  to  which  he  had  long  looked  forward.  So  soon 
as  Mary  was  settled  upon  the  throne,  and  the  reactionary 
party,  headed  by  their  old  leaders,  had  once  more  tri- 
umphed, he  and  the  other  chief  agents  of  the  Reformation 
were  sought  out,  summoned  to  London  before  the  Privy 
Council,  and  committed  to  the  Tower.  Latimer  appears 
to  have  been  in  Worcestershire  when  a  "  pursuivant,"  in 
the  language  of  the  chronicler,  was  sent  down  into  the 
country  to  call  him  up.  He  was  duly  appraised  of  his 
danger ;  and,  to  do  the  government  justice,  they  seem  to 
have  afforded  him  the  fair  means  of  escape,  if  he  had  been 
disposed  to  flee  out  of  the  country,  like  so  many  others. 
But  flight  was  far  from  his  thoughts.  The  one  strength 
that  remained  to  him  was  to  bear  the  crown  of  martyrdom; 
and  passing  through  Smithfield  on  his  way  to  the  council, 
he  was  heard,  in  his  usual  cheerful  manner,  to  say  that  it 
"  had  long  groaned  for  him."  His  health,  already  greatly 
weakened,  was  further  injured  by  the  hardships  of  his  con- 
finement in  the  Tower.  He  was  kept  "  without  fire  in  the 
frosty  winter,"  and  the  picture  is  a  bitterly  touching  one  of 
the  suffering  old  man,  "well-nigh  starved  with  cold,"  and 
jesting  with  his  keeper  on  his  chances  of  cheating  his  per- 
secutors, "  if  they  did  not  look  better  to  him." 


228         LEADERS     OF     THE     KEFORMATION. 

In  the  April  of  the  following  year  (15-54)  he  was  con- 
veyed to  Oxford,  along  with  Cranmer  and  Ridley,  for  the 
purpose  of  holding  disputations  on  the  subject  of  the  mass 
before  certain  commissioners  appointed  to  examine  them. 
We  find  him,  on  the  18th  of  April,  in  the  presence  of  these 
commissioners,  declining  to  dispute.  He  pleaded  that  he 
was  an  old  man,  and  that  he  had  not,  during  these  twenty 
years,  much  used  the  Latin  tongue.  "  Then  replied  to 
him  Master  Smith  of  Oriel  College  ;  Doctor  Cartwright, 
Master  Harpsfield,  and  divers  others,  had  snatches  at  him, 
and  gave  him  bitter  taunts.  He  did  not  escape  hisses  and 
scornful  laughing.  He  was  very  faint,  and  desired  that  he 
might  not  long  tarry."  ^  It  is  a  miserable  spectacle  :  inso- 
lence and  brutahty  on  the  one  side,  and  weakness  and  old 
age  on  the  other.  If  we  could  wonder  at  any  disgrace 
perpetrated  in  the  name  of  religion,  we  might  wonder  at 
the  singular  debasement  which  could  prompt  such  conduct 
on  the  part  of  learned  men  towards  one  who,  amidst  the 
widest  differences  of  opinion,  had  such  claims  upon  their 
sympathy  and  respect.  The  disputation,  as  in  all  such 
cases,  lead  to  nothing.  Latimer  was  permitted  to  give  in  a 
lengthened  protestation  of  his  faith,  upon  which  there  fol- 
lowed some  discussion,  terminating  in  a  curiously  emphatic 
denunciation  of  the  Protestants  by  Dr.  Weston,  who  took 
the  lead  in  the  argument  on  behalf  of  the  commissioners  : 
"A  sort  of  fling-brains  and  light-heads,"  he  said  they  were, 
"which  were  never  constant  in  any  one  thing;  as  it  was  to 
be  seen  in  the  turning  of  the  table,  where,  like  a  sort  of 
apes,  they  could  not  tell  which  way  to  turn  their  tails,  look- 
ing one  day  west,  and  another  day  east  —  one  that  way, 
and  another  this  way."^ 

»  FoxE,  Remains,  p.  250.  2  Remains,  p.  277. 


LATIMER.  229 

After    this    examination    Latimer    was    transferred    to 
Bocardo,  the   common  jail  in   Oxford,  and  there  he   lay, 
with  his   companions,  imprisoned  for  more  than   a  year. 
During  this  long  imprisonment  "  they  were  most  godly  oc- 
cupied either  with  brotherly  conference,  or  with  fervent 
prayer,  or  with  fruitful  writing,  albeit  Master  Latimer,  by 
reason  of  the  feebleness  of  his  age,  wrote  least  of  them  all 
in  this  last  time.    But  in  prayer  he  was  fervently  occupied, 
wherein  oftentimes  so  long  he  continued  kneeling,  that  he 
was  not  able  to  rise  without  help."  ^    At  length,  on  the  30th 
of  September,  1558,  he  again  appears  before  the  commis- 
sioners.    Ridley  had  preceded  him  in  examination,  and  in 
the  meantime  he  had  been  kept  waiting,  as  he  complains, 
"  gazing  upon  the  cold  walls."    Suffering  and  poverty  were 
depicted   in  his    appearance  as    he  bowed   before   them, 
"  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand,  with  a  kerchief  bound  round 
his  head,  and  upon  it  a  nightcap  or  two,  and  a  great  cap, 
such  as  horsemen  used  in  those  days,  with  two  broad  flaps 
to  button  under  the  chin.      He  wore  an  old  threadbare 
Bristol   frieze    gown,    girded   to   his   body   with  a  penny 
leather   girdle ;   his  Testament  was  suspended  from   this 
girdle  by  a  leather  sling,  and  his  spectacles,  without  a  case, 
hung  from  his  neck  upon  his  breast."^     He  was  exhorted 
to  consider  his  estate,  to  remember  his  age  and  infirmity, 
and  to  spare   his   body  by  admitting   the    claims  of  the 
Papacy.     He  replied  with  something  of  his  old  spirit,  tak- 
ing up  the  special  arguments  urged  by  the  Bishop  of  Lin- 
coln, who  had  addressed  him.     Especially  he  exposed  the 
unfairness  of  a  book  recently  published  by  the  Bishop  of 
Gloucester,  in  which  it  was  argued  that  the  clergy  possessed 
the  same  authority  as  the  Levites ;  and  whereas  the  Bible 

'  FOXE.  2  Ibid.,  p.  529. 

20 


230    LEADERS  OE  THE  REFORMATION. 

said  that  the  Levites,  if  there  arose  any  controversy  among 
the  people,  should  decide  the  matter  according  to  the  law  of 
God,  these  words  were  left  out  in  the  book  in  question,  and 
the  text  quoted  as  saying,  that  as  the  priests  should  decide 
the  matter,  so  it  ought  to  be  taken  of  the  people,  —  "  A  large 
authority,  I  assure  you,"  he  exclaimed.     "  What  gelding  of 
Scripture  is  this?  what  clipping  of  God's   coin?"^     The 
Bishop  of   Gloucester,  who   happened  to  be  one  of  the 
commissioners,  came  forward  to  defend  his  book;  and  Lat- 
imer acknowledged  that  he  did  not  know  him,  and  was  not 
aware  of  his  presence.     A  scene  of  laughter  ensues  in  the 
old  brutal  fashion.-  The  bishop  reproaches  him  for  his  want 
of  learning.     "  Lo  I "  he  exclaimed,  in  just  indignation  at 
the  unworthy  taunt,  "  you  look  for  learning  at  my  hand, 
which  have  gone  so  long  to  the  school  of  oblivion,  making 
the  bare  walls  my  library ;  keeping  me  so  long  in  prison 
without  book,  or  pen,  or  ink  ;  and  now  you  let  me  loose  to 
come  and  answer  to  articles.    You  dealAvith  me  as  though 
two  were  appointed  to  fight  for  life  and  death  ;  and  over- 
night the  one,  through  friends  and  favor,  is  cherished,  and 
hath  good  counsel  given  him  how  to  encounter  with  his 
enemy ;  the  other,  for  envy  or  lack  of  friends,  all  the  whole 
night  is  set  in  the  stocks.    In  the  morning,  when  they  shall 
meet,  the  one  is  in  strength  and  lively,  the  other  is  stark 
of  his  limbs,  and  almost  dead  for  feebleness.     Think  you 
that  to  run  through  this  man  with  a  spear  is  not  a  goodly 
victory?  "2 

The  end  of  all  was,  that  he  and  Ridley  were  condemned 
to  suffer;  and  on  the  16th  of  October,  1555,  they  were  led 
forth  to  martyrdom  "  without  Bocardo  gate,"  opposite  Baliol 
College    (where   the    splendid    martyrs'    monument   now 

'  FOXE,  vol.  vii.  p.  531.  2  ibid.  ^  ibjd,,  p.  532. 


LATIMER 


231 


Stands).  They  embraced  each  other,  knelt  in  prayer,  and 
at  last,  when  they  were  about  to  kindle  the  pile,  he  first 
thanked  God  audibly  for  his  faithfulness  to  him,  and  then, 
turning  to  his  companion,  said,  "  Be  of  good  comfort,  Mas- 
ter Ridley,  and  play  the  man  :  we  shall  this  day  light  such 
a  candle,  by  God's  grace,  in  England,  as  I  trust  shall  never 
be  put  out." 

Thus  perished  the  great  preacher  reformer  of  England, 
closing  liis  honest,  laborious,  and  intrepid  life  by  an  heroic 
death,  shedding  its  radiance  back  upon  all  his  previous 
work,  and  transfiguring  it  into  a  higher  glory. 

The  character  of  Latimer  presents  a  combination  of 
noble  and  disinterested  qualities,  scarcely  rising  to  great- 
ness, but  highly  significant  and  interesting.  The  natural 
healthiness  of  his  earlier  years  at  the  Leicestershire  farm, 
of  "  three  or  four  pounds  by  the  year  at  the  uttermost," 
reappears  in  all  his  future  career  as  a  student,  a  preacher,  a 
bishop,  a  martyr.  There  is  the  same  simple  spirit,  and 
honest  temper,  and  cheery  humor,  and  unresting  f  lithful- 
ness  in  him  in  every  capacity.  The  man  is  never  lost  sight 
of,  in  whatever  special  attitude  he  shows  himself;  nay,  the 
rustic  boy,  who  was  the  "  father  of  the  man,"  is  scarcely 
ever  forgotten.  There  is  in  him  everywhere  a  rural  fresh- 
ness and  rough  fragrance  of  nature,  that  we  feel  as  a 
rare  and  happy  charm  impregnating  and  purifying  all  his 
work. 

A  sim]:)licity  everywhere  verging  on  originality  is  perhaps 
his  most  prominent  characteristic,  —  a  simplicity  as  far  as 
possible  from  that  which  we  noted  in  Calvin  :  the  one,  the 
naked  energy  of  intellect ;  the  other,  a  guileless  evenness 
of  heart.  The  single  way  in  which  Latimer  looks  at  life, 
with  his  eyes  unblinded  by  conventional  drapery  of  any 
kind,  and  his  heart  responsive  to  all  its  broadest  and  most 


232 


LEADERS     OF     THE     EEFORMATION. 


common  interests,  — of  which  he  speaks  in  language  never 
nice  and  circumlocutory,  but  straight,  plain,  and  forcible,— 
gives  to  his  sermons  their  singular  air  of  reahty,  and  to  his 
character  that  sort  of  piquancy  which  we  at  once  recognize 
as  a  direct  birth  of  nature.  He  is  a  kind  of  Goldsmith  in 
theology ;  the  same  artless  and  winning  earnestness,  —  the 
sunny  temper  in  the  midst  of  all  difficulties,  —  the  same 
disregard  of  his  own  comforts,  and  warm  and  kindly  indi- 
vidualism of  benevolence,  — the  same  bright  and  playful 
humor,  like  a  roving  and  gleeful  presence,  meeting  you  at 
every  turn,  and  flashing  laughter  in  your  face.  It  would  be 
absurd,  of  course,  to  push  this  comparison  further.  There 
is  beneath  all  the  oddities  of  Latimer's  character  a  deep 
and  even  stern  consistency  of  purpose,  and  a  spirit  of 
righteous  indignation  against  wrong,  which,  apart  from  all 
dissimilarities  of  work,  destroys  any  more  essential  analogy 
between  the  great  humorist  of  the  Eeformation  in  England 
and  the  later  humorist  of  its  hterature.  Yet  the  same 
childlike  transparency  of  character  is  beheld  in  both,  and 
the  same  fresh  stamp  of  nature,  which,  in  its  simple  origin- 
ality, is  found  to  outlast  far  more  briUiant  and  imposing,  but 
artificially  cultured  qualities. 

In  mere  intellectual  strength,  Latimer  can  take  no  place 
beside  either  Luther  or  Calvin.  His  mind  has  neither  the 
rich  compass  of  the  one,  nor  the  symmetrical  vigor  of  the 
other.  He  is  no  master  in  any  department  of  intellectual 
interest,  or  even  of  theological  inquiry.  We  read  his  ser- 
mons, not  for  any  light  or  reach  of  truth  which  they  unfold, 
nor  because  they  exhibit  any  pecuhar  depth  of  spiritual 
apprehension,  but  simply  because  they  are  interesting,  — 
and  interesting  mainly  from  the  very  absence  of  all  dog- 
matic or  intellectual  pretensions.  Yet,  without  any  men- 
tal greatness,  there  is  a  pleasant  and  wholesome  harmony 


LATIMER.  233 

of  mental  powers  displayed  in  his  writings,^  which  gives  to 
them  a  wonderfnl  vitahty.   There  is  a  proportion  and  vigor, 
not  of  logic,  but  of  sense  and  feeling  in  them,  eminently 
English,  and  showing  everywhere  a  high  and  well-toned 
capacity.     He  is  coarse  and  low  at  times  ;  his  famiharity 
occasionally  descends  to  meanness ;  but  the  living  hold 
which  he  takes  of  reality  at  every  point,  often  carries  him 
also  to  the  height  of  an  indignant  and  burning  eloquence. 
Of  his  private  social  life  we  learn  comparatively  little. 
His  nature  was  one  keenly  susceptible  of  friendship,  and 
must  have  everywhere  drawn  to  itself  objects  of  affection. 
We  can  mark  in  the  dim  traces  of  his  life  the  surrounding 
footsteps  of  his  friends,  —  Bilney,  and  Cranmer,  and  Crom- 
well, and  Dr.  Butts,  and,  at  the  last,  Ridley.     There  is  no 
glimmering,  however,  of  any  dearer  and  more   intimate 
affection,  —  no  light  of  love,  flushing  with  its  soft,  warm 
presence  the  hard  and  darkening  course  of  his  energetic 
and  unwearied  labors.     The  singleness  of  his  aim  as  a 
reformer;    his   untiring   spirit   of  self-sacrifice,    "minding 
not  his  own  tilings,  but  the  things  of  others;"  his  self- 
sustaining  vigor  in  his  work,  and  equable  delight  in  it,  — 
may  sufficiently  account  for  this  absence.     It  takes  an  in- 
terest from  his  life,  but  at  the  same  time  simplifies  our  view 
of  it.     The  impression  remains  deepened  of  a  simple  and 
earnest,  rather  than  of  a  broad  and  powerful  character. 

Li  turning  to  estimate  Latimer's  work  as  a  reformer,  we 
are  at  first  struck  very  much  with  the  same  peculiarity ; 
that  is  to  say,  with  its  comparative  simplicity  and  narrow- 
ness of  meaning.     It  possesses  neither  the  national  gran- 

1  Besides  his  sermons,  his  letters  — not  merely  his  comparatively  short 
business  letters  to  Cromwell,  but  those  to  Sir  Ed.  Baynton,  Archbishop  War- 
ham,  and  King  Henry  —  should  be  read  by  the  student. 

20=^ 


234    LEADERS  OE  THE  REFORMATION. 

cleiir  of  the  work  of  Luther,  nor  the  theological  and  spuit- 
iial  influence  of  that  of  Calvin.  It  is  practical  rather  than 
doctrinal ;  and  deep  and  powerful  and  abiding  as  have 
been  its  traces,  it  never  attains  to  that  comprehensive 
sw^eep  and  issue  which  at  once  impress  us  in  the  work  of 
each  of  our  other  reformers.  And  yet  Latimer  was  a  true 
leader  in  the  great  movement  of  the  sixteenth  century.  He 
did  not,  indeed,  and  could  not,  take  up  and  express  the  va- 
rious and  complex  impulses  that  w^ere  then  bearing  the  na- 
tional life  of  England  onwards  in  the  direction  of  reform. 
There  was  no  single  teacher  capable  of  doing  this.  There 
w^ere  far  too  great  diversity  and  richness  in  the  impulses  then 
moving  England  to  permit  of  their  finding  united  expres- 
sion in  any  one  man.  But  while  Latimer  did  not,  like 
Luther  or  Calvin,  sum  up  in  himself  the  great  principles 
of  the  movement  of  which  he  was  a  leader,  he  expressed, 
beyond  doubt,  the  most  characteristic  features  of  that  move- 
ment. He  represented  those  cuialities  of  earnestness,  and 
yet  of  moderation,  of  scriptural  faithfulness,  and  yet  tra- 
ditionary respect,  —  at  once  reforming  and  conservative, — 
which  peculiarly  distinguislied  the  English  character,  and 
have  stamped  their  impress  more  than  any  other  upon  the 
spirit  of  the  Church  of  England. 

The  spirit  of  this  church  is  not,  and  never  has  been, 
definite  and  consistent.  From  the  beginning  it  repudiated 
the  distinct  guidance  of  any  theoretical  principles,  however 
exalted,  and  apparently  scriptural.  It  held  fast  to  its  his- 
torical position,  as  a  great  institute  still  living  and  powerful 
under  all  the  corruptions  wduch  had  overlaid  it ;  and  while 
submitting  to  the  irresistible  influence  of  reform  which 
swept  over  it,  as  over  other  churches  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, it  refused  to  be  refashioned  according  to  any  new 
model.     It  broke  away  from  the  medieval  bondage,  under 


LATIMER.  235 

which  it  had  always  been  restless,  and  destroyed  the  gross 
abuses  which  had  sprung  out  of  it ;  it  rose  in  an  attitude 
of  proud  and  successful  resistance  to  Rome :  but  in  doing 
all  this,  it  did  not  go  to  Scripture,  as  if  it  had  once  more, 
and  entirely  anew,  to  find  there  the  principles  either  of 
doctrinal  truth  or  of  practical  government  and  discipline. 
Scripture,  indeed,  was  eminently  the  condition  of  its  re- 
vival ;  but  Scripture  was  not  made  anew  the  foundation  of 
its  existence.  There  was  too  much  of  old  historical  life  in 
it  to  seek  any  new  foundation  ;  the  new  must  grow  out  of 
the  old,  and  fit  itself  into  the  old.  The  Church  of  Eng- 
land was  to  be  reformed,  but  not  reconstituted.  Its  life 
Avas  too  vast,  its  influence  too  varied,  its  relations  too  com- 
plicated, — '  touching  the  national  existence  in  all  its  multi- 
plied expressions  at  too  many  points,  —  to  be  capable  of 
being  reduced  to  any  new  and  definite  form  in  more  sup- 
}iosed  uniformity  with  the  model  of  Scripture,  or  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  primitive  church.  Its  extensive  and  manifold 
organism  was  to  be  reanimated  by  a  new  life,  but  not 
remoulded  according  to  any  arbitrary  or  novel  theory. 

Tiiis  spirit,  at  once  progressive  and  conservative,  com- 
prehensive rather  than  intensive,  historical,  and  not  dog- 
matical, is  one  eminently  characteristic  of  the  English 
mind,  and,  as  it  appears  to  us,  in  the  highest  degree  char- 
acteristic of  the  English  E^eformation.  It  is  far,  indeed, 
from  being  an  exliaustive  characteristic  of  it.  Two  distinct 
tendencies  of  a  quite  difierent  character,  expressly  dogmatic 
in  opposite  extremes,  are  found  running  alongside  this  main 
and  central  tendency :  on  the  one  hand,  a  medieval  dog- 
matism ;  on  the  other  hand,  a  puritanical  dogmatism.  The 
current  of  religious  life  in  England,  as  it  moved  forward 
and  took  shape  in  the  sixteenth  century,  is  marked  by  this 
tlu'cefold  bias,  which  has  perpetuated  itself  to  the  present 


236         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

time.  There  was  then,  as  there  remams  to  this  day,  an 
upper,  middle,  and  lower  tendency,  —  a  theory  of  High- 
churchism,  and  a  theory  of  Low-churchism ;  and  between 
these  contending  dogmatic  movements  the  great  confluence 
of  what  was  and  is  the  peculiar  type  of  English  Christian- 
ity, —  a  Christianity  diffusive  and  practical,  rather  than 
direct  and  theoretical;  elevated  and  sympathetic,  rather 
than  zealous  and  energetic ;  scriptural  and  earnest  in  its 
spirit,  but  undogmatic  and  adaptive  in  its  form. 

In  the  sixteenth  century  Latimer  appears,  along  v^ith 
Cranmer,  —  although  in  a  more  natural  manner  than  the 
latter,  as  being  comparatively  free  from  the  complications 
of  political  interest,  —  to  be  the  great  representative  of 
this  middle  movement  in  the  Church  of  England ;  while 
Gardiner  and  Bonner  on  one  side,  and  Hooper  and  his  fol- 
lowers on  the  other  side,  represent  respectively  the  medi- 
eval and  puritanical  tendencies.  It  may  be  doubtful  to 
some,  whether  there  is  not  much  in  Latimer  that  seems  to 
ally  him  with  the  latter  school,  —  whether  his  principles,  in 
their  natural  development,  would  not  have  led  him  to  join 
them,  had  he  lived  on  till  they  came  into  more  distinct 
prominence  as  opposed  to  the  ecclesiastical  despotisms  of 
Elizabeth.^  Such  a  question  cannot  be  absolutely  deter- 
mined, and  is,  in  fact,  irrelevant.  For  it  is  idle  to  speculate 
what  Latimer  or  any  man  might  have  become  in  very  dif- 
ferent circumstances  from  those  in  which  we  find  him.  It 
appears  to  us  with  sufficient  clearness  that  Latimer  never 
would,  and  never  could,  have  become  a  Puritan,  without 
an  entire  change  of  the  peculiar  spirit  of  natural  sense,  of 
mioderation,  and  of  conciliatory  doctrinism  which  distin- 
guishes him.     In  the   early  dogmatic   puritanism  of  the 

1  This  is  apparently  Mr.  Froucle's  view  of  both  Latimer  and  Cranmer  — 
vol.  iii.  p.  362. 


LATIMER.  237 

Church  of  England,  —  of  Hooper,  for  example,  and  sidise- 
qiiently  of  Travers  and  Cartwiight,  —  there  was  a  distinct 
foreign  element,  which  Latimer,  with  his  genuine  English 
feeling,  w^ould  have  strongly  repudiated  ;  and  there  was, 
moreover,  a  dogmatic  narrowness,  and  an  exaggerated  im- 
portance attached  to  form  and  externality,  which  were 
entirely  alien  to  his  cast  of  mind,  and  the  spirit  of  reform 
which  animated  him. 

This  spirit  was  throughout  preeminently  practical.  He 
had  no  special  reforming  schemes  of  any  kind  in  view  ;  he 
had  no  special  doctrines  even  to  urge  once  more  into  prom- 
inence. The  gospel  did  not  come  to  him  as  it  came  to 
Luther,  in  the  shapq#of  a  new  truth  ;  nor  yet  as  it  came  to 
Calvin,  in  the  shape  of  a  new  system.  It  came  to  him 
simply  as  a  new  spirit  of  life,  and  earnestness,  and  Chris- 
tian activity.  As  he  studied  the  Bible,  and  as  Bihiey  and 
he  prayed  over  it,  it  was  the  fire  neither  of  dogmatic  zeal 
nor  of  disciplinal  urgency  that  was  kindled  in  him,  but  the 
glow  of  simple  evangelical  earnestness.  He  awoke  as 
from  a  dream,  in  which  the  forms  of  superstition  had 
hannted  him  as  the  only  realities,  to  find  that  they  were 
no  realities  at  all,  but  the  mere  inventions  and  fancies  of 
men,  draping  and  concealing  the  great  truths  of  God.  The 
meaning  of  life  and  of  duty,  of  real  service  to  God  in  holy 
obedience  and  works  of  mercy,  in  comparison  w^th  mere 
religious  observances  and  will-works  —  this  was  what 
dawned  upon  him.  And  this  was,  above  all,  the  kind  of 
reformation  after  which  he  sought,  and  for  which  he  labored 
—  a  reformation  of  life  —  the  Church  of  England  once 
more  animated  by  a  Christian  spirit,  destroying  by  its  very 
presence  and  power  the  gross  medieval  abuses  which  had 
fastened  upon  it  till  they  seemed  a  part  of  its  very  exist- 
ence, whereas,  in  truth,  they  were  only  corrupting  excres- 


238    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

cences.  The  Catholic  faith  seemed  to  him,  scarcely  less 
than  to  Sir  Thomas  More,  to  sm-vave  in  England,  and  in 
the  old  Church  of  England,  if  it  were  only  purified  from 
such  traditions  and  corruptions.  His  own  preaching  pre- 
sented to  himself  nothing  new,  nor  even  contrary  to  the 
decrees  of  the  Fathers.  In  his  letter  to  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  in  1533,  we  find  such  a  reforming  position 
exactly  described  as  the  one  on  which  he  considered  him- 
self to  stand.  "  If  any  man  has  any  fault  to  object  against 
my  preaching,  as  being  obscure  or  nncautiously  uttered,  I 
am  ready  to  explain  my  doctrine  by  further  discourse  ;  for 
I  have  never  preached  anything  contrary  to  the  truth,  or 
contrary  to  the  decrees  of  the  Fathsrs,  nor,  as  far  as  I 
know,  contrary  to  the  Catholic  faith.  I  have  desired,  I 
own,  and  do  desire,  a  reformation  in  the  judgment  of  the 
vulgar.  I  have  desired,  and  still  desire,  that  they  should 
make  a  distinction  between  duties,  and  regard  and  main- 
tain each  according  to  its  i)roper  value,  its  place  and  time, 
its  rank  and  degree,  in  order  that  all  men  should  know  that 
there  is  a  very  great  difference  between  those  works  which 
God  hath  prepared  for  each  of  us,  zealously  discharging 
the  duties  of  our  respective  callings,  to  walk  in,  and  those 
that  are  voluntary,  which  we  undertake  by  our  own  strength 
and  j)leasure.  It  is  lawful,  I  own,  to  make  use  of  images, 
to  go  upon  pilgrimages,  to  invoke  the  saints  to  be  mindful 
of  souls  in  purgatory;  but  those  things  which  are  voluntary 
are  so  to  be  moderated  that  God's  commandments  of  neces- 
sary obligation,  which  bring  eternal  life  to  those  who  keep 
them,  and  eternal  death  to  those  who  neglect  them,  be  not 
deprived  of  their  just  value.  .  .  .  I  therefore,  hitherto, 
stand  fixed  on  the  side  of  the  commandments  of  God,  so 
aiming,  not  at  my  own  gain,  but  that  of  Christ ;  so  seeking 
not  my  own  glory,  but  that  of  God ;  and  as  long  as  Ufe 


LATIMER.  239 

shall  be  permitted  to  me,  I  will  not  cease  thus  to  continue 
imitating  herein  all  true  preachers  of  the  word  that  have 
hitherto  lived  in  the  world."  ^ 

The  same  supremely  practical  tendency  manifests  itself 
more  or  less  in  all  his  sermons ;  and  in  none  more  than  in 
those  preached  before  Edward  VI.,  which  may  be  supposed 
to  contain  his  mature  views  of  reform.  He  is  vigilant  and 
urgent  against  all  abuses  alike  in  church  and  state,  in 
society  and  in  private  life.  He  exposes  them  with  homely 
and  crushing  invective,  sparing  no  class,  passing  by  no  op- 
pression, whether  that  of  the  poor  vicar  having  an  exten- 
sive cure  in  a  market-town,  on  "  but  twelve  or  fourteen 
marks  by  the  year,"  so  "  that  he  is  not  able  to  buy  him 
books,  nor  give  his  neighbor  drink  ;"^  or  that  of  the  gen- 
tle-woman from  whom  a  great  man  kept  certain  lands  of 
hers,  and  who  in  a  whole  twelvemonth  could  not  get  one 
day  for  the  hearing  of  her  matter;  or  that  of  the  poor 
widow  lying  in  the  Fleet.^  He  has  a  sound  English  heart, 
hating  all  evil,  and  especially  all  proud  and  lying  evil,  all 
dastardly  mockeries  of  truth,  all  mere  pretences  in  the 
church  or  out  of  it,  all  disorders,  all  indifference  and  dead- 
ness.  His  spirit  kindles,  and  his  language  rises  into  more 
concentrated  pith  and  vigor  when  he  catches  sight  of  some 
great  wi'ong,  or  some  social  folly  or  immorality,  and  wishes 
that  it  lay  in  his  poor  tongue  to  explicate  it  "  with  such 
light  of  words  that  he  might  seem  rather  to  paint  it  before 
their  eyes  than  to  speak  it."  It  is  this  characteristic  of 
Latimer's  sermons  that  makes  them  still  so  fresh  and  living 
to  us  while  we  read  them.  Had  they  been  more  doctrinal, 
we  should  have  examined  them  perhaps  with  equal  or 
even  greater  curiosity,  as  serving  to  illustrate  the  state  of 

1  See  Latin  original  —  FoxE,  vol.  vii.  pp.  4—7. 

2  Sermons,  p.  101.  ^  Ibid.,  p.  127. 


240    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

Christian  thought  in  his  age,  but  we  certainly  should  not 
have  found  in  them  that  vivifying  power  with  which  they 
still  touch  us  ;  for  nothing  becomes  more  dead  in  the  course 
of  transmission  than  the  popular  fjrms  of  doctrinal  teach- 
ing, so  that  one  generation  finds  mere  barrenness  and  waste 
paper  in  what  greatly  interested  and  delighted  its  prede- 
cessor. Even  the  doctrinal  sermons  of  Luther  are  no 
exception  to  this. 

It  is  therefore  just  because  Latimer  was  no  dogmatist 
that  he  remains  so  interesting  to  us,  and  his  words  still  re- 
tain such  a  zest,  and  flavor,  and  power.  He  contends  for 
no  particular  theory  of  the  truth ;  his  newborn  life  does  not 
need  any  new  doctrinal  vehicle  of  expression  ;  it  is  slow 
even  to  cast  off  the  least  worthy  additions  that  have  gath- 
ered round  the  Catholic  faith,  and  out  of  which  have 
sprung,  by  a  sure  process,  the  worst  abuses  which  he 
de[)lores.  He  nowhere  takes  up  an  attitude  of  doctrinal 
hostility  to  the  old  church,  nor  aims  to  set  forth  any  specific 
doctrinal  principles  to  which  the  whole  hue  of  the  reform 
movement  should  be  attached,  and  from  which  it  ought  to 
proceed.  And  yet  it  would  be  a  total  misapprehension  of 
his  spirit  and  position  to  suppose  him  latitudinarian,  or  in- 
different to  dogmatic  truth  ;  he  simply  does  not  realize  its 
separate  importance.  Trained  in  the  scholastic  philosophy, 
he  of  all  our  reformers  retains  no  trace  of  its  rationalizing 
and  controversial  spirit.  He  had  obviously  little  or  no  faith 
in  controversy  —  a  wonderful  point  of  advance  for  that 
age.  He  is  no  theologian  ;  dogmas  in  and  by  themselves 
have  no  interest  for  his  homely,  healthy  mind.  He  appre- 
hends all,  and  cares  for  all,  only  in  the  concrete.  Truth  for 
him  is  not  this  or  that  view  or  theory,  but  the  life  of  faith- 
ful obedience  towards  God,  and  of  active  charity  tov/ards 
man.      This   is   the  highest  truth,   and   the    only  worthy 


L  A  T  I  M  E  K  .  241 

reality  for  him  in  all  the  world,  —  "  To  fear  God,  and  keep 
his  commandments."  And  it  is  his  great  mission  as  a  re- 
former to  awaken  men  everywhere  to  the  need  of  this 
living  truth,  to  recall  them  from  shadows  and  superstitions, 
from  "inventions  and  fancies,"  from  will-works  and  phan- 
tasies of  their  own,  to  the  reality  of  true  Christian  work, 
and  the  glory  of  this  only  divine  service. 

It  v/as  as  a  preacher,  above  all,  that  he  discharged  this 
great  mission;  and  his  sermons  remain,  as  a  whole,  ils 
most  interesting  and  graphic  expression.  Their  highest 
qualities  are  exactly  those  that  characterize  his  general 
work  —  life,  reality,  and  earnestness.  He  uses  the  pulpit 
not  so  much  as  a  vehicle  of  instruction,  but  as  a  means  of 
impulse  and  movement.  He  never  uses  it  as  a  mere 
theatre  of  eloquence.  He  is  eloquent  not  because  he 
thinks  of  being  eloquent,  and  tries  to  be  so,  but  simply 
because  there  is  in  him  a  living  and  honest  meaning  which 
he  desires  to  communicate  to  others.  The  fire  burned 
within  him,  and  he  spake  as  it  moved  him.  His  sermons, 
accordingly,  while  frequently  deficient  in  all  method,  and 
sometimes  —  ^vhere  they  aim  to  be  explanatory  or  argu- 
mentative—  vague  and  unimpressive,  are  yet,  in  the  main, 
instinct  virith  a  vigorous  and  fresh  and  happy  interest.  To 
interest,  and  so  move  and  reform,  was  the  great  aim  of  all 
of  them  ;  and  so  everything  is  sacrificed  to  the  necessity 
of  making  those  whom  he  is  addressing  feel  the  truth  and 
force  of  what  he  is  saying.  The  most  homely  illustrations, 
and  most  startling  and  ludicrous  conjunctions,  headlong  and 
unsparing  invective,  and  wayward  and  joyous  humor,  are 
all  given  full  play  to,  —  each  impulse  yielded  to  as  it 
comes,  —  in  order  that  the  hearers  may  be  touched  by  his 
own  obvious  and  irresistible  inspiration.  The  result  is 
what  sometimes  appears  to  us,  reading  them  with  the  cold 

21 


242         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

eye  of  criticism,  coarseness  rather  than  power,  meanness 
of  language  rather  than  impressiveness  of  idea,  and  cari- 
cature rather  than  humor ;  but  the  manly  and  genial  critic 
will  acknowledge  the  natural  healthiness  and  vigor  even  of 
many  illustrations  which  have  incurred  the  censure  of 
more  fastidious  tastes,  while  there  is  a  relish  as  of  good 
old  wine,  sound  and  ripe  after  three  centuries,  in  many 
more ;  and  the  intellectual  appetite,  jaded  with  the  weak 
mixtures  of  modern  religious  sentiment,  grows  keen  and 
glad  over  the  numerous  passages  of  vigorous  and  racy 
sense,  homely  and  joyous  picturesqueness,  and  pungent, 
earnest,  and  happy  humor.  It  is  difficult  to  give  any  speci- 
men at  all  satisfactory  in  detail.  All  such  good  things 
appear  poor  when  extracted,  and  apart  from  their  setting. 
The  reader,  therefore,  must  study  the  sermons  themselves, 
if  he  care  to  appreciate  them.  The  following  single  pas- 
sage, in  which  irony  mingles  with  earnestness,  and  the 
picture,  if  somewhat  low  and  audacious,  is  graphic  and 
powerful  in  the  highest  degree,  may  stand  by  itself  perhaps 
as  well  as  any  other:  "  But  now  for  the  fuilt  of  unpreach- 
ing  prelates,  methinks  I  could  guess, what  might  be  said 
for  excusing  of  them.  They  are  so  troubled  with  lordly 
living,  they  be  so  placed  in  palaces,  couched  in  courts, 
ruffling  in  their  rents,  dancing  in  their  dominions,  burdened 
with  embassages,  pampering  of  their  paunches,  like  a 
monk  that  maketh  his  jubilee,  munching  in  their  mangers, 
and  moiling  in  their  gay  manors  and  mansions,  and  so 
troubled  with  looking  on  their  lordships,  that  they  cannot 
attend  it.  They  are  otherwise  occupied,  some  in  the  king's 
matters,  some  are  ambassadors,  some  of  the  Privy  Council, 
some  to  furnish  the  court,  some  are  lords  of  the  Parliament, 

some  are  presidents  and  comptrollers  of  mints 

Should  we  have  ministers  of  the  church  to  be  comptrollers 


LATIMER. 


243 


of  the  mints  ?     Is  this  a  meet  office  for  a  priest  that  hath 
cure  of  souls  ?     Is  this  his  charge  ?     I  would  here  ask  one 
question  —  I  would  fain  know  who  controlleth  the  devil  at 
home  in  his  parish  while  he  controlleth  the  mint  ?     .     .     . 
Who  is  the  most  diligentest  bishop  and  prelate  in  all  Eng- 
land, that  passeth  all  the  rest  in  doing  his  office  ?     1  can 
tell,  for  I  know  him  who  it  is  —  I  know  him  well.    But  now 
I  think  I  see  you  Usting  and  hearkening  that  I  should  name 
hioi.     There  is  one  that  passeth  all  the  other,  and  is  the 
most  dihgent  prelate  and  preacher  in  all  England.     And 
will  you  know  who  it  is  ?     I  will  tell  you ;  it  is  the  devil. 
He  is  the  most  dihgent  preacher  of  all  others.    He  is  never 
out  of  his  diocese,  he  is  never  from  his  cure ;  ye  shall 
never  find  him  unoccupied ;  he  is  ever  in  his  parish ;  he 
keepeth  residence  at  all  times  ;  ye  shall  never  find  him  out 
of  the  way  ;   call  for  him  when  you  will,   he  is   ever  at 
home  ;  he  is  ever  at  his  plough,  no  lording  nor  loitering  can 
hinder  him  —  you  shall  never  find  him  idle,  I  warrant  you. 
And  his  office  is  to  hinder  rehgion,  to  maintain  superstition, 
to  set  up  idolatry.     When  the  devil  is  resident  and  hath 
his  plough  going,  then  away  with  books,  and  up  with  can- 
dles ;  away  with  bibles,  and  up  with  beads ;  away  Avith  the 
light  of  the  gospel,  and  up  with  the  hght  of  candles,  yea, 
at  noonday.     .     .     .     Down  with  Christ's  cross,  and  up 
with  purgatory  pick-purse,  up  with  him  —  the  Popish  pur- 
gatory I  mean.     Away  with  clothing  the  naked,  the  [)oor 
and  the  impotent,  up  with  the  decking  of  images  and  gay 
garnishing  of  stocks  and  stones ;  up  with  man's  traditions 
and  his  laws,  down  with  God's  traditions  and  his  holy  word; 
down  with  the  old  honor  due  to  God,  and  up  with  the  new 
god's  honor."  ^ 

1  "  Sermon  of  the  Plough."  —  Sermons,  pp.  68—70. 


244    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATIOX. 

There  is  no  feature  in  Latimer's  sermons  more  pervading 
than  their  invective.  He  is  ever  on  the  watch  for  wrong 
and  abuses,  and  he  pours  out  upon  them  the  most  free  and 
startling  rebukes.  He  spares  no  class,  and  he  spurns  no 
weapon  of  ridicule  or  denunciation  against  the  powers  of 
misrule,  indolence,  superstition,  and  bigotry,  that  he  would 
strike  down.  It  is  now  the  bishops,  and  now  the  lawyers, 
among  whom  he  sends  his  swift  and  piercing  arrows  ;  now 
the  increasing  licentiousness  of  the  age,  and  now  the  ex- 
travagances of  ladies'  attire,  especially  the  laying  out  of  the 
hair  in  "  tussocks  and  tufts ; "  and,  again,  the  indolent 
effeminacy  of  the  rich  and  noble,  which  he  paints  with  a 
breadth  of  brush  and  a  strong  light  of  piquant  satire,  that 
enable  us  at  once  to  understand  his  popularity.  It  was  as  a 
denouncer  of  flagrant  and  Avidely-felt  abuses,  and  as  an 
unceasing  preacher  of  righteousness  and  benevolence 
against  wrong  and  hardness  of  heart,  that  the  people  above 
all  looked  upon  him  and  loved  him ;  and  the  strength  and 
prevalency  of  the  popular  feeling  is  sufficiently  shown  in 
the  cry  with  which  the  boys  used  to  follow  him  in  the 
streets  —  "  Have  at  them,  Master  Latimer  ! "  In  every 
such  time  of  extensive  change,  when  old  oppressions  are 
relaxing  and  new  responsibilities  dawning,  honest  and 
hearty  denunciation  is  sure  to  be  popular ;  and  we  may 
well  imagine,  therefore,  the  enthusiasm  which  greeted  the 
great  preacher  who  had  the  courage,  in  that  age,  to  utter 
manful  and  unsparing  words  in  the  ears  of  the  wealthy  and 
powerful,  the  corrupt  and  tyrannical. 

The  humor  of  the  sermons  is  eminently  notable,  —  a 
pungent,  nipping,  pursuing  humor,  lacking  the  richness  and 
depth  and  boisterous  freedom  of  Luther's,  but  singularly 
funny,  seizing  one  in  the  oddest  ways  and  at  the  most  un- 
expected turns.     You  are  never  sure,  even  in  the  most 


LATIMER.  245 

solemn  passages,  that  it  will  not  peep  out  with  its  wayward 
and  comic  glance,  and  start  a  reactionary  smile  as  the 
shadow  of  thought  is  beginning  to  steal  over  the  counte- 
nance. Explosive  and  striking  in  its  effect,  it  is  gentle  in 
its  spirit.  There  is  not  a  touch  of  ill-nature  in  it.  It  cuts 
to  the  quick,  not  because  the  preacher  delights  in  giving 
offence,  but  because  his  keen  eye  and  pure  heart  cannot 
help  seeing  through  the  mockeries  and  vanities  and  wrongs 
which  he  exposes.  He  sees  always  their  absurdity  as  well 
as  their  iniquity,  and  he  cannot  help  saying  so.  If  stupidity 
is  offended,  and  superstition  alarmed,  and  oppression  indig- 
nant, so  much  the  worse  for  all  of  them.  The  preacher  is 
not  to  blame  who  lights  them  up  as  he  paints  them  with 
the  lambent  glances  of  a  humorous  scorn,  which  has 
merely  searched  them  through  and  through.  As  with  all 
other  preaching  humorists,  his  fun  is  no  doubt  sometimes 
out  of  place.  A  chill  taste  will  shudder  over  some  of  its 
displays  ;  but  the  truth  is,  that  there  are  certain  tastes,  and 
especially  religious  tastes,  to  which  humor  in  any  hearti- 
ness of  manifestation  is  a  dire  offence.  Identifying  religion 
not  only  with  gloom  but  with  stupidity,  such  tastes  find 
harm  where  there  is  merely  amusement,  and  wrong  where 
there  is  merely  the  free  play  of  innocent  strength.  A 
hearty  religious  feeling,  though  sometimes  startled,  will 
never  be  shocked  by  Latimer's  oddest  sallies,  but  will  re^ 
cognize  in  them  only  the  radiant  sparks  from  an  ever- 
bright  and  warm  heart,  looking  out  upon  life  with  an  in- 
tense gaze  of  reality,  and  apprehending  its  marvellous 
contrasts  in  the  sunlight  of  an  ever-cheerful  temper. 

Nothing  is  more  remarkable  in  him  than  this  cheerful- 
ness. Ill  in  body,  tried  and  persecuted  and  cast  down  by 
many  troubles,  he  is  always  cheerful,  —  cheerful  at  Cam- 
bridge, amidst  the  scowls  of  friars,  —  cheerful  in  his  parish, 

21* 


246         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

under  Episcopal  frowns,  and  in  his  diocese,  amidst  an 
obtuse  and  opposing  clergy,  —  cheerful  in  the  Tower,  when 
nearly  starved  to  death  with  cold,  —  cheerfid  at  the  stake, 
in  the  thought  of  the  illnmining  blaze  that  he  and  Ridley 
would  make  for  the  glory  of  the  gospel  and  the  happiness 
of  England.  An  earnest,  hopefid,  and  happy  man,  honest, 
fearless,  open-hearted,  hating  nothing  but  baseness,  and 
fearing  none  but  God,  —  not  throwing  away  his  life,  yet 
not  counting  it  dear  when  the  great  crisis  came  —  calmly 
yielding  it  up  as  the  crown  of  his  long  sacrifice  and  strug- 
gle. There  may  be  other  reformers  that  more  engage  our 
admiration ;  there  is  no  one  that  more  excites  our  love. 


ly. 

JOHN    KNOX 


JOHN    KNOX 


The  Scottish  Reformation,  and  the  great  central  figure 
which  it  presents,  remain  for  our  consideration.  The  field 
opened  to  our  view  is  comparatively  limited,  but  it  is 
singular  in  tlie  completeness  and  intensity  of  its  interest. 
The  area  over  which  the  reforming  movement  is  seen 
sweeping  is  but  a  narrow  one  in  contrast  with  that  of  Ger- 
many or  France  or  England,  but  it  is  more  deeply  moved ; 
and  the  gathering  impulses  of  the  religious  excitement 
swell  into  a  more  highly  expressed  and  definite  nationality 
than  in  any  of  the  other  cases. 

As  we  cast  our  glance  upon  Scotland  towards  the  end  of 
the  first  quarter  of  the  sixteerith  century,  we  behold  a  very 
disturbed  }>icture,  —  the  king,  the  great  nobles,  and  the 
clergy  sharing  between  them  an  authority  which  has  not 
worked  itself  into  any  consistent  and  beneficent  form  of 
national  order.  In  comparison  with  the  well- developed, 
massive,  and  richly-pictured  life  of  England  at  the  same 
period,  there  is  great  rudeness  and  disorder,  and,  in  a  word, 
barbarism,  in  Scotland.  This  is  obviously  true  of  all  ele- 
ments of  political  strength  and  stability  ;  while  in  regard  to 
the  church  it  is  no  less  really  true.  Poor  and  corrupt  as 
the  clergy  were  in  England  in  the  earlier  reign  of  Henry 
VIII.,  they  yet  retained,  in  some  instances,  a  moral  spirit 
and  influence  of  which  we  can  detect  no  trace  in  the  sister 
country. 


250    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

The  Reformation  in  each  country  is  found  strongly  con- 
trasted, according  to  these  very  different  circumstances  of 
the  two  nations.  While  in  England  there  were  powerful 
forces  both  of  political  and  moral  resistance  to  it,  in  Scot- 
land, when  the  front  of  rude  authority  with  which  it  was 
at  first  violently  encountered  was  once  broken  down,  there 
was  no  power  left  to  stay  nor  even  to  guide  it.  The 
kingly  influence  was  entirely  prostrated  in  the  untimely 
death  of  James  V.,  after  the  disaster  of  Solway  Moss ;  the 
nobles,  in  their  savage  enmities  and  factions,  possessed  no 
intelligent  or  steady  power  of  control.  The  hierarchy  was 
the  single  authority  that  remained  to  encounter  a  move- 
ment against  which  it  was  no  more  capable  of  effective 
resistance,  than  would  be  the  palsied  form  of  a  corrupt  old 
age  against  the  active  strength  of  a  young  and  vigorous 
Hfe. 

While  in  England,  accordingly,  we  see  a  balanced  move- 
ment proceeding  gradually  and  under  royal  sanction,  in 
Scotland  we  behold  an  insurrectionary  impulse  long  re- 
pressed, but  at  length  gathering  force  till  it  breaks  down 
and  sweeps  away  all  barriers  before  it.  It  might  seem,  on 
the  mere  first  glance  we  got  of  the  hierarchy  of  Scotland, 
that  it  constituted  a  formidable  power ;  externally  it  bears 
the  marks  of  such  a  power,  —  the  craft,  subtlety,  and  swift, 
unrelenting  vengeance  which  master  its  enemies  easily, 
and  crush  them  before  its  fierce  anger.  But  these  are  in 
reality  the  mere  fangs  of  a  brute  strength  surviving  the 
decay  of  all  true  national  life  and  strength  in  the  system. 
The  apparent  influence  and  barbaric  splendor  of  such  men 
as  the  Beatouns  cover  a  rottenness  at  the  heart  more 
feeble,  and  smitten  with  more  complete  decay,  than  could 
be  found  in  any  other  country  of  the  Reformation.  No- 
where else  had  the  clergy  reached  such  a  pitch  of  flagrant 


JOnN     KNOX. 


251 


and  disgraceful  immorality,  and  the  Eoman  Catholic  re- 
ligion become  such  an  utter  corruption  and  mockery  of  all 
that  is  good  and  holy.  The  bishops  and  archbishops  lived 
in  open  concubinage,  and  gave  their  daughters  in  marriage 
to  the  sons  of  the  best  families  in  the  kingdom ;  livings 
were  transmitted  from  father  to  son  in  the  most  shameless 
manner ;  the  monasteries  were,  in  popular  belief  and  in 
reality,  to  a  degree  beyond  what  we  can  indicate,  sinks  of 
profligacy.  A  darker  and  more  hideous  picture,  when  we 
think  of  it  as  the  formal  representative  of  religion  to  a 
people,  we  cannot  conceive  than  that  which  is  suggested 
in  the  scattered  but  sufficiently  broad  hints  of  Knox.^ 

And  while  such  were  the  moral  features  of  the  system, 
scarcely  even  the  pretence  of  religious  service  was  pre- 
served ;  the  churches,  save  on  festival  days,  were  aban- 
doned, the  priests  unable  to  understand  a  single  word  of 
the  prayers  which  they  mumbled  over,  and  preaching  en- 
tirely unknown.  Every  element  of  religion  was  material- 
ized to  the  last  degree  ;  and  blessings  sold  for  so  much,  and 
cursings  for  so  much.  The  clergy  were  the  traffickers  — 
they  seem  really  to  have  been  little  more  —  in  such  sup- 
posed spiritual  charms  ;  the  people  were  the  victims,  in 
some  cases  honestly  so,  but  in  others  obviously  with  a  suf- 
ficiently clear  view  of  the  absurdity,  if  not  impiety,  of  the 
whole  affair.  Knox  gives  a  ludicrous  picture  of  what  went 
on  in  this  way,  drawn  from  the  preaching  of  William 
Airth,  a  friar  of  Dundee,  who  distinguished  himself  tem- 
porarily by  his  keen  exposure  of  the  papistical  system 

1  Historie.  Whatever  undue  severity  there  may  be  here  and  there  in 
Knox's  descriptions,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  tlieir  general  accuracy. 
The  immoralities  of  such  men  as  the  Beatouns,  and  the  clerical  caste  in  Scot- 
land of  Avhich  they  stood  at  the  head,  are  unhappily  as  vv^ell  established  as 
anv  such  facts  can  be. 


liO. 


"  The  priest,"  said  he,  "  whose  duty  and  office  it  is  to  pray 
for  the  people,  stands  up  on  Sunday  and  cries,  '  Ane  has 
tint  a  spurtill ;  there  is  a  flail  stoun  beyond  the  burn  ;  the 
gudewife  of  the  other  side  of  the  gait  has  tint  a  horn- 
spoon  :  God's  malison  and  mine  I  give  to  those  who  know 
of  this  gear  and  restores  it  not' "  And  the  appreciation 
the  people  often  had  of  this  preaching  is  also  well  shown. 
"  After  sermon  that  he  had  at  Dunfermline,"  Knox  says, 
"  he  came  to  a  house  whare  gossips  were  drinkane  their 
Sunday  pennie ;  and  he,  being  dry,  askit  drink.  '  Yes, 
father,'  said  ane  of  the  gossips,  'ye  sail  have  drink,  but  ye 
must  first  resolve  ane  doubt  whilk  has  risen  among  us, — 
to  wit,  what  servant  will  serve  a  man  best  on  least  ex- 
pense.'— '  The  gude  angel,'  said  I,  'who  is  man's  keeper, — 
who  makes  grit  service  without  expense.' — '  Tusclie  I '  said 
the  gossip,  'we  mean  no  such  high  matters;  we  mean, 
what  honest  man  will  do  greatest  service  for  least  ex- 
pense ? '  And  while  I  was  musing,  said  the  friar,  what 
that  should  mean,  she  said,  '  I  see,  father,  that  the  greatest 
clerks  are  not  the  wisest  men.  Know  ye  not  how  the 
bishops  and  their  officials  serve  us  husbandmen  ?  Will 
they  not  give  us  a  letter  of  cursing  for  a  plack  to  last  for  a 
year,  to  curse  all  that  look  over  our  dyke?  and  that  keeps 
our  corn  better  nor  the  sleepy  boy  that  will  have  three 
shilHngs  of  fee,  a  sark,  and  a  pair  of  shoon  in  the  year."-^ 

A  system  whose  most  familiar  and  popular  expressions 
had  sunk  into  such  absolute  dotage,  whose  dishonesty  and 
immorality  were  so  widespread  and  prominent,  might  seem 
powerful;  but,  in  point  of  fact,  it  had  no  permanent  ele- 
ments of  strength.  It  was  a  mere  repressive  machinery 
lying  on  the  heart  of  the  nation,  so  far  as  there  was  in  it 

'  HistoTie,  p.  14;  fol.  ed.,  1732. 


JOHN    KNOX.  253 

any  true  heart  and  living  growth  of  moral  intelligence. 
And  not  only  so ;  not  only  had  the  Catholic  hierarchy  in 
Scotland  become  a  mere  incubus,  but  an  incubus  in  no 
small  degree  of  foreign  character  and  pretensions.  Many 
of  the  higher  clergy  received  their  education  in  France;' 
tliey  had  engrafted  on  their  natural  rudeness  and  fierceness 
of  character  the  polish  of  a  culture  formed  in  tlie  most 
licentious  and  perfidious  court  in  Europe,  —  a  polish  which 
not  only  left  their  native  and  essential  savagcness  un- 
tamed, but  sharpened  it  into  some  of  its  worst  features  of 
cruelty  and  baseness.  This  may  serve  to  explain  the 
striking  alienation  between  the  hierarchy  in  Scotland  and 
the  genuine  and  growing  national  feeling.  There  aie  no 
points  of  attraction,  not  even  of  tolerance,  between  them  ; 
only  the  hardest  attitude  of  unreasoning  authority  on  the 
one  hand,  and  of  utter  contempt  and  hatred  on  the  other. 
Among  the  pioorer  classes  there  may  have  been  a  kind  of 
sympathy  with  the  clergy,  and  certain  relations  of  good- 
will on  the  one  side  and  the  other.  The  monasteries,  cor- 
rupt as  they  were,  must,  in  the  very  worst  point  of  view, 
have  been  centres  of  beneficence,  stretching  towards  many 
humble  cottages ;  and  the  bishops  had  each  their  numer- 
ous dependants,  with  their  friends  and  relatives,  mingled 
among  the  people.  Bad  as  the  system  was,  it  must  have 
possessed  such  points  of  support,  and  might  have  strength- 
ened itself  in  some  degree  on  them,  had  any  wisdom  been 
left  to  it ;  but  ignorance  and  mere  selfish  instinct  were, 
after  all,  but  a  poor  stay  for  profligacy,  while  all  the 
intellectual  and  moral  interests  of  the  country  were  uniting 
against  it. 

Standing  between  the  clergy  and  the  lowest  orders,  there 


Keith's  ScoUish  Bishops,  pp.  21—24. 
22 


254    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

had  grown  up  during  the  preceding  century  or  more,  in 
Scotland,  a  class  of  traders  in  the  tOAvns  and  of  gentry  in 
the  country,  bound  to  each  other  by  intimate  ties;  and  it 
was  in  the  growhig  enlightenment  of  this  class  that  the 
future  fate  of  Scotland  lay.  These  burghers  and  gentry 
constituted  young  Scotland  in  the  sixteenth  century.  They 
had  the  intelligence  to  understand  to  the  full  the  corrup- 
tions of  the  Papacy  ;  they  had  gathered  to  themselves  such 
spiritual  life  as  remained  in  the  country,  and  this  rose  in 
horror  at  the  immoralities  which  it  embodied.  They  were 
a  rising  and  vigorous  class,  proud  of  their  sharp-wittedness 
and  the  influence  which  their  position  and  resources  gave 
them ;  they  were  well  informed,  through  their  connection 
with  the  Continent,  with  regard  to  the  progress  of  the  re- 
formed doctrines  ;  they  had  character,  strong  feelings,  and 
I  political  as  well  as  religious  aims  ;  and  thus  they  ranged 
j  themselves  against  the  hierarchy  as  its  natural  and  avowed 
I  enemies. 

;        Between  these  tv\'o  powers  the  conflict  of  the  Scottish 
\    Keformation    was   really   waged.     It   was   a   conflict   not 
\  merely  in  the  interest  of  religion,  although  this  it  was 
\  eminently,  but  moreover,  and  in  a  higher  and  more  remark- 
able degree  than  elsewhere,  a  conflict  on  behalf  of  the 
.  independence  and  integrity  of  national  life.     The  spiritual 
impulse  was  strongly  present,  but  inseparably  bound  up 
Yv^ith  a  political  feeling,  Vvdiich  gave  a  characteristic  impress 
to  the  general   movement.     Amid  the   decay  of  the  old 
political  influences  in  the  country,  and  the  corruption  of  its 
social  and  ecclesiastical  bonds,  there  was  a  fresh  and  com- 
pact vigor  in  the  middle  orders  that  rendered  them  alone 
more  capable  in  moral  strength  than  any  party  opposed  to 
them  ;  and  not  only  did  the  reforming  activity  mainly  pro- 
ceed from  them,  but,  in  virtue  of  their  self-consistency  and 


J  0  II  K     KNOX.  loo 

liardihooJ  of  character,  they  retained  the  main  guidance  of 
it  in  their  hands.  They  impressed  their  own  character 
upon  it ;  they  gave  to  it,  both  as  a  doctrine  afld  a  disciphnc, 
a  shape  removed  as  far  as  possible  from  the  hated  hierarch- 
ical system  which  they  subveited.  Altogether  unlike  the 
growth  of  the  English  Church,  the  Scottish  Preformed  Kirk 
became  an  entirely  new  expression  of  religious  life  in 
Scotland.  The  old  had  passed  away,  —  all  things  had  be-j 
come  new,  —  when  the  reforming  tide  settled  dov/n,  and 
the  face  of  rehgious  order  reiipijeared.  Scotland  was  not. 
merely  reformed,  it  was  revolutionized.  Catholicism  had 
vanished  into  obscure  corners,  from  which  no  royal  nursing 
could  ever  again  evoke  it,  save  as  a  poor  bastard  ghost  of 
its  former  self,  destined  to  vanish  again  before  every  fresh 
outburst  of  the  national  feeling. 

This  comi>lete  change,  wrought  by  the  Reformation  in 
Scotland,  can  only  be  explained  in  the  light  of  the  peculiar 
crisis  which  the  national  history  had  then  reached.  A  newj 
political  and  social  influence  was  at  the  time  waiting  to' 
start  into  vigorous  development ;  it  met  the  Keformation, 
embraced  it,  moulded  it  to  its  own  inspirations  and  aims, 
and  carried  itself  triumphantly  forward  in  its  advance.  It. 
is  very  true  that  some  of  the  greater  nobles  soon  saw  rea-, 
son  to  join  themselves  to  the  reformed  cause,  and  in  various^ 
ways  to  aid  or  hinder  it;  but  in  the  beginning,  and  at  the 
end,  the  Scottish  Reformation  continued  essentially  a  mid- 
dle-class movement,  with  all  the  hardy  virtue  belonging  to 
its  parentage,  yet  also  with  the  parental  defects  —  sturdy! 
and  uncompromising  in  its  faith,  and  free  in  its  instincts, 
but  with  no  sacred  inheritance  of  traditionary  story  binding 
it  by  beautiful  links  to  the  great  Catholic  past ;  and  further, 
as  has  been  long  too  sadly  apparent,  with  no  sympathetic 
expansiveness  for  moulding   into  religious  unity  classes 


2ob    LEADEKS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

widely  separated  in  material  rank  and  in  intellectual  and 
artistic  culture. 

It  is  suffici^itly  singular,  and  so  far  in  corroboration  of 
the  view  now  presented,  that  the  Scottish  reformers,  one 
and  all  of  them  of  any  note,  sprung  from  the  class  of 
gentry  to  which  we  have  referred.  Patrick  Hamilton,  in- 
deed, was  immediately  connected  with  the  higher  nobihty, 
and,  through  his  mother,  with  the  royal  family;^  but  the 
fact  of  his  being  a  younger  son,  and  the  illegitimacy  that 
attached  to  the  descent  of  both  his  parents,  rendered  his 
own  social  position  certainly  not  higher  than  that  of  the 
lairds  or  gentry.  George  Wishart,  again,  was  brother  to 
the  Laird  of  Pittarow,  and  Knox  was  the  son  of  a  younger 
brother  of  the  house  of  Ranferly. 

Patrick  Hamilton  is  the  fu*st  prominent  name  that  meets 
us  in  the  Scottish  Reformation.  His  brief  and  sad,  yet 
beautiful  stor}^  has  been  told  ancAV  in  our  day  in  a  very 
elegant  and  well-informed  volume,^  where  we  read  for  the 
first  time,  in  a  clear  and  consistent  light,  the  narrative  of 
his  education,  first  in  Pa.ris,  then  in  St.  Andrews,  and  lastly 
Germany,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  reforming  influences  ; 
his  return  to  his  native  country,  and  marriage  (a  fact  not' 
previously  known);  and  then  his  preaching,  and  seizure 
and  trial  by  the  elder  Beatoun,  —  a  narrative  vrhich  serves 
to  deepen  the  affecting  story  of  his  martyrdom  in  front  of 
the  gate  of  the  old  college  of  St.  Andrews,  on  the  29th  of 
February,  1528.     Hamilton,  no  doubt,  caught  his  first  re- 

1  He  was  the  son  of  Sir  Patrick  Hamilton  of  Kincavil,  an  illegitimate  son 
of  the  first  Lord  Hamilton,  and  of  Catherine  Stewart,  (illegitimate  ?)  daughter 
of  Alexander  Duke  of  Albany,  second  son  of  King  James  H.  On  the  mother's 
side  the  illegitimacy  merely  followed  an  act  of  ecclesiastical  divorce.  His 
father  perished  in  the  conflict  between  the  Hamiltons  and  Douglases,  known 
as  Cleanse  the  Causeway,  which  took  place  in  Edinburgh  in  1520. 

2  By  Mr,  Lorimer,  of  the  English  Presbyterian  College,  London. 


JOHN    KNOX.  257 

forming  impulse  during  the  years  that  he  studied  in  Paris 
(1519-20),  when  the  university  was  all  astir  on  the  subject 
of  Luther's  doctrines.  His  subsequent  studies  in  Germany 
confirmed  the  early  impulse  thus  communicated ;  and  the 
proto-reformer  of  Scotland  was  thus  substantially  Lutheran 
in  the  origin  and  character  of  his  teaching. 

This  foreign  element  in  the  rise  of  the  K.eformation  in 
Scotland  deserves  to  be  noticed.  There  are  also  trace?, 
however,  of  a  native  religious  life.  An  awakening,  half- 
literary,  half-spiritnal,  had  begun  during  the  preceding  ten 
years  in  St.  Leonard's  College,  St.  Andrews,  and  Hamilton 
was  in  the  very  midst  of  this  spirit  of  new  inquiry  and  ex- 
citement while  pursuing  his  studies  there.  We  get,  more- 
over, in  Knox's  History,  one  clear  glimpse  of  an  earnest 
Lollardism  towards  the  end  of  the  preceding  century,  in 
the  reign  of  James  IV.^  The  spirit  which  he  describes, 
and  the  articles  which  he  gives  in  detail,  recall  strongly  the 
spirit  and  doctrines  which  we  have  seen  to  characterize 
the  surviving  Wickliffite  influence  in  England,  —  the  same 
broad  and  somewhat  crude  apprehension  of  scriptural  truth 
—  the  same  scornful  humor  —  the  same  strong,  yet  retiring 
piety,  —  with  the  rem.arkable  diflerence,  however,  that  the 
"thirty  persons,"  called  "  Lollards  of  Kylle,"  seem  to  have  be- 
longed, not  to  the  peasantry,  as  in  England,  but  to  the  better 
classes  of  society.  At  this  single  point,  a  line  of  antece- 
dent religious  life  in  Scotland  rises  into  brief  and  impres- 
sive prominency.  And  it  no  doubt  lived  on  to  some  extent 
during  the  next  thirty  years,  and  helped  in  the  advance  of 
the  Reformation  ;  but  in  what  degree,  or  through  Avhat  con- 
nections it  did  this,  we  cannot  distinctly  trace,  either  in  the 
case  of  Hamilton  or  of  any  of  the  chief  reformers. 


1  Hislorie,  p.  2. 

22^ 


258    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

The  zeal  of  Patrick  Hamilton,  altlioiigli  quenched  hi 
cruel  flames,  lived  after  him.  His  teaching,  enhanced  by 
the  noble  and  pathetic  courage  of  his  death,  made  a  deep 
impression  on  the  national  mind.  The  reforming  spirit 
spread  on  all  sides.  "Men  began,"  says  Knox,  "very  lib- 
erally to  speak."  The  bishops  had  only  one  weapon  with 
which  to  encounter  the  rising  spirit.  They  bethought 
themselves  of  burning  some  more  heretics.  '  jNIew  con- 
sultation was  taken  that  some  should  be  burned;'  but  a 
'merrie  gentleman,'  a  famihar  of  the  bishop,  was  lieard  to 
say,  '  Gif  if  3^e  burn  more,  let  them  be  burnt  in  how  sellars  ; 
for  the  reik  of  Mr.  Patrick  HamiUon  has  infected  as  many 
as  it  did  blow  upon.'  " 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  while  Knox  was  rising  into 
full  manhood,  and  beginning  with  that  steady  and  long- 
piercing  glance  of  his  to  look  forth  upon  the  world,  and 
note  the  circumstances  and  signs  of  the  times  amidst  which 
he  found  himself  At  the  time  of  Hamilton's  death  he  was 
tv/enty-three  years  of  age,  and  about  terminating  his  studies 
in  tlie  university  of  Glasgow.  He  was  born  in  1505,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Haddington,  of  parents  whose  ancestry 
and  social  position  have  been  subjects  of  dispute,  although 
the  evidence  seems  perfectly  conclusive  that  his  father  be- 
longed to  the  Knoxes  of  Ranferly,  an  old  and  respectable 
family  of  Renfrewshire.^  His  own  statement,  that  "  his 
great-grandfather,  gudeschir,  and  father,  served  under  the 
Earls  of  Bothwell,  and  some  of  them  have  died  under 
their  standards,"^  is  perfectly  consistent  with  this.  He  re- 
ceived his  preliminary  education  at  the  grammar  school  of 
Haddington,  and  in  the  year  1521  was  sent  to  the  uni- 
versity of  Glasgow,  where  he  had,  therefore,  been  a  con- 

1  See  M'Ciiie's  Life  of  Knox,  p.  2.  "  Ibid. 


JOHN    K  X  0  X .  259 

sidcrable  number  of  years  at  the  time  that  the  reforming 
ojiinious  began  to  spread  rapidly  throngliout  the  country. 

It  is  not  very  clear  when  or  under  what  special  influ- 
ences Knox  first  began  to  incline  to^vards  these  opinions. 
He  had  gone  to  Glasgow  university  with  the  view  of  being 
trained  for  the  church,  and  there,  under  Major,  he  soon 
proved  himself  an  apt  and  distinguished  pupil  of  the 
scholastic  theology.  He  was  considered  as  equalling  if 
not  excelling  his  master  in  the  snbtleties  of  the  dialectic 
art.  To  this  teacher  also  he  probably  owed  the  first  im- 
pulse to  that  remarkable  freedom  "of  political  opinion  which 
afterwards  characterized  him.  He  is  said  to  have  been/ 
ordained  before  the  year  1530  ;  but  at  this  time,  and  for 
twelve  years  onward,  there  is  a  great  gap  in  his  life,  which 
his  biographer  has  been  wholly  unable  to  fill  up.  We  only' 
know  that  some  time  after  taking  his  degree,  he  removed 
to  St.  Andrews,  and  taught  there,  although  in  what  college 
does  not  clearly  appear;  and  then  that  about  1535,  espe- 
cially by  the  study  of  the  Fathers,  his  traditionary  opinions 
had  become  thoroughly  shaken.  Not  till  eight  years  later/ 
hov/ever,  or  in  1543,  did  he  become  an  avowed  and  marked 
reformer. 

This  year  is  in  every  way  memorable  in  the  history  of 
the  Scottish  Reformation.  The  death  of  the  king  after  the 
disastrous  defeat  of  Sohvay  Moss  in  the  end  of  the  pre- 
vious year,  and  the  consequent  accession  of  the  Earl  of 
Arran  to  the  regency,  produced  at  first  a  change  favorable 
to  the  views  of  the  reformers.  Negotiations  were  renewed 
with  England ;  Protestant  preachers  were  taken  under  spe- 
cial protection  by  the  regent,  and  a  measure  passed  the 
committee  of  Parhament  known  by  the  name  of  the  Lords 
of  the  Articles,  and  received  his  sanction,  authorizing  the 
reading  of  the  Scriptures  in  the  common  tongue.     Every- 


2C0    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

thing  seemed  for  the  moment  to  indicate  the  good-will  of 
the  regent,  and  to  tend  to  the  advance  of  the  Reformation. 
The  favor  of  Arran,  however,  was  but  short-lived.  The 
French  and  papal  party,  with  Cardinal  Beatoun  at  their 
head,  soon  regained  their  ascendency.  Just  as  under  the 
previous  interregnum,  fifteen  years  before,  all  the  efforts  of 
Henry  YIIT.  —  defeated  to  some  extent  by  his  own  injus- 
tice and  violence  —  were  unsuccessful  to  bind  any  section 
of  the  Scottish  nobles  permanently  to  his  interest;  and  the 
renewed  connection  with  France  laid  the  foundation  for 
confusion  and  misery  to  the  country  for  more  than  another 
half- century. 

So  soon  as  Beatoun  attained  his  object,  and  once  more 
held  the  substantial  power  of  the  kingdom  in  his  grasp,  he 
resolved  to  crush  his  enemies  with  no  sparing  hand.  His 
bloodthirsty  vengeance  had  been  baffled  by  the  reluctant 
pity  of  the  late  king,  who  had  shrunk  with  horror  from  the 
atrocity,  suggested  to  him  by  the  clergy,  of  exterminating 
by  a  single  stroke  two  or  three  hundred  of  the  most  influ- 
ential of  the  reformers,  whose  names  they  had  presented 
to  him  in  a  list.^  There  seemed  no  obstacle  now,  however, 
to  the  fidl  gratification  of  his  vengeance,  while  the  instinct 
of  self-preservation  probably  combined  with  that  of  his 
natural  imperiousness  and  cruelty  to  direct  him  to  the 
special  object  of  his  attack.  Whatever  be  the  credit  due 
to  Tytler's  special  insinuations  against  Wisliait,  —  which 
appear  to  rest  on  very  slender  evidence,  —  Beatoun,  no 
doubt,  identified  this  courageous  preacher  with  his  political 
as  V7ell  as  religious  enemies.  He  was  the  intimate  asso- 
ciate, and,  by  his  eloquence  and  activity,  the  most  power- 

1  Knox,  pp.  27,  28;  Pitscottie,  p.  164.  The  numbers  vary;  Knox 
speaks  of  "ane  hundreth  landit  men,  besides  otlieris  of  meaner  degree  ;" 
Pitscottie  says  "seventeen  score." 


JOHN    KNOX.  261 

fill  support  of  the  anti-papal  or  English  party.  The  car- 
dinal knew  this  well,  and  aimed  accordingly,  by  his  appre- 
hension and  death,  to  strike  the  most  fatal  blow  he  could 
at  the  part3^ 

George  Wishart,  as  he  stands  depicted  in  the  pages  of 
Knox  and  Calderwood,  is  a  singularly  interesting  character; 
of  gentle,  winning,  and  unassuming  disposition,  with  a 
strange  wild  tinge  of  enthusiasm,  an  intense  spirit  of  de- 
votion, and  a  commanding  eloquence;  "a  man  of  sic  graces 
as  before  him  were  never  heard  in  this  realm,  yea,  and  rare 
to  be  found  yet  in  ony  man."  Obhgcd  to  seek  refuge,  some 
time  before,  in  England,  from  the  persecution  of  the  Bishop 
of  Brechin,  he  returned  to  Scotland  in  1543,^  with  the  com- 
missioners who  had  been  sent  to  negotiate  a  treaty  with 
Henry  VIII.  He  had  been  dwelling  for  some  time  in  the 
very  centre  of  the  Anglican  reform  movement  at  Cam- 
bridge, where  the  influence  of  Eilney  and  Latimer  still 
lived  ;  and  he  seems  to  have  caught  some  share  of  the 
spirit  of  both  —  the  mild  rapture  of  tlie  one,  and  the  stern 
denunciatory  zeal  of  the  other.  On  his  return  to  Scotland 
he  travelled  from  town  to  tov/n,  and  county  to  county, 
preaching  the  truth  which  had  become  precious  to  his  own 
soul.  He  made  a  deep  impression  wherever  he  went ;  his 
words  v.rought  with  a  marvellous  persuasiveness  on  some 
even  of  the  most  hardened  and  wicked  in  the  land  —  such 
men,  for  example,  as  the  Laird  of  Scheill,  described  by 
Knox,  who,  as  the  preacher  on  a  "  hette  and  pleasant 
day"  of  summer,  addressed  the  crowd  from  a  "dyke  on  a 
muir  edge,  upon  the  south-west  side  of  Mauchlin,"  was  so 
affected  that  "  the  tears  rane  fra  his  eyne  in  sic  abundance 
that  all  men  vv^ondered,"  and  who  by  his  future  life,  more- 
• 

^  Knox  says  1544. 


262    LEADERS  OF  THE  EEFORMATION. 

over,  showed  that  "  his  conversion  then  wrought  was  with- 
out hypocrisy."  ^ 

In  his  preaching  excursions,  Wishart  gathered  around 
him  devoted  followers,  and  was  the  inspiring  mind  of  the 
■'  Protestant  party,  now  adding  rapidly  to  its  numbers.  It  is 
j  as  one  of  these  followers  that  Knox  first  clearly  appears 
upon  the  scene  of  the  Reformation,  and  in  a  very  charac- 
teristic attitude.  He  tells  us  himself,  that  from  the  time 
that  the  zealous  preacher  came  to  Lothian,  he  waited  care- 
fully upon  him,  bearing  "a  twa-handed  sword."  This  pre- 
caution had  been  used  since  an  attempt  had  been  made  to 
assassinate  the  preacher ;  and  the  bold  spirit  of  Knox,  now 
kindling  into  its  full  ardor,  rejoiced  in  the  attendant  post  of 
danger.  At  this  very  time,  however,  the  machinations  of 
the  cardinal  against  Wishart  had  reached  their  completion; 
and  while  he  rested  at  Ormiston,  after  his  last  remarkable 
sermon  at  Haddington,  he  was  made  a  prisoner  by  the  Earl 
of  Bothwell ;  while  Beatoun  himself  lay  v/ithin  a  mile,  at 
the  head  of  500  men,  in  case  any  attempt  should  be  made 
to  rescue  him.  There  is  a  strange  ivcird  interest  in  Knox's 
description  of  his  last  interview  with  the  preacher,  and  his 
final  sermon.  Disappointed  at  not  meeting  with  the 
friends  he  expected,  —  the  Earl  of  Cassillis  and  others, — 
and  disheartened  by  the  apparent  decline  of  the  popular 
interest  in  the  reformed  cause,  he  spoke  to  his  intrepid 
sword-bearer  of  his  ^veariness  with  the  world,  and  "  as  he 
spacit  up  and  doun  behind  the  hie  altar,  mair  than  half  an 
hour  before  sermon,  his  verie  countenance  and  visage 
declarit  the  grief  and  alteration  of  his  mind."  The  shadow 
of  his  approaching  doom  had  crept  upon  him ;  and  when 
Knox  wished  to  share  his  fate,  and  accompany  him  to 

1  Elstoine,  p.  44. 


JOHN     KNOX.  263 

Ormiston,  he  said,  "  Nay,  return  to  your  iDairnes,  and  God 
Lless  you  ;  ane  is  sufficient  for  a  sacrifice."^ 

Knox's  "bairnes"  were  liis  pupils,  the  sons  of  the  lairds 
of  Niddrie  and  Ormiston.  In  default  of  any  more  definite 
occupation,  he  had  settled  as  a  quiet  tutor  to  the  sons  of 
these  families.  From  the  time  of  liis  quitting  St.  Andrews, 
up  to  this  time,  when  in  his  fortieth  year  he  first  publicly 
appears  in  connection  with  Wishart,  we  can  scarcely  be 
said  to  know  anything  further  of  him.  As  Mr.  Carlyle  first 
pointed  out,  there  is  considerable  significance  in  this  long 
period  of  silence  in  Knox's  history.  It  speaks  strongly  of 
his  naturally  peaceful  disi)osition,  of  the  patient  maturity 
with  which  he  formed  his  opinions,  and  of  the  consequent 
absurdity  of  the  notion  that  would  fix  him  down  at  once  as 
a  mere  ambitious  and  turbulent  partisan.  It  may  serve 
also  to  explain  the  singular  decision  and  comi-letcness  of 
his  views  when  the  outburst  of  his  reforming  zeal  at  length 
came. 

Now,  after  the  apprehension  of  Wishart,  he  seems  to 
have  remained  cautiously  in  his  retirement,  mourning  the 
dreadful  fate  of  his  friend,  till  the  great  event,  perpetrated 
at  the  old  castle  of  St.  Andrews,  on  the  morning  of  the 
29th  May,  1546,  summoned  him  from  his  privacy,  and  im- 
parted a  new  direction  and  a  nobler  interest  to  his  life. 
This  event  lives  nowhere  so  vividly  and  powerfully  as  in 
his  own  wonderful  narrative,-  in  which  the  horror  of  the 
circumstances  is  wildly  relieved  by  a  stern  glee,  kindling  in 
the  writer  as  he  tells  them  in  careful  outline.  It  is  ecjually 
needless  to  condemn  the  spirit  of  the  historian,  or  to  find 
excuses  for  it.  If  the  horror  of  the  transaction  obscures  in 
our  minds  all  feeling  of  pleasantry  as  we  look  back  upon 

1  nistorie,  p.  48.  2  ii^j^].^  pp,  ^4,  G5. 


26i  LEADERS     0  E     THE     REFORMATION. 

it,  we  have  to  thank  Kiiox,  and  such  men  as  Knox,  that 
there  is  left^to  us  no  occai^iion  of  any  other  feeding.  To 
him,  and  to  all  honest  and  patriot  hearts  in  Scotland  in  the 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  death  of  Cardinal 
Beatoun,  nnder  ^vhatever  circumstances  of  atrocity,  could 
not,  nnfortunately,  be  anything  else  but  a  circumstance  of 
gratulalion.  It  is  the  divine  doom  of  tyranny,  in  whatever 
shape,  that  men  should  rejoice  at  its  murder,  even  if  that 
murder  be  "foully  done."  The  joy  is  not  in  fault,  but  the 
cause  of  it.  The  former  is  a  pure  manifestation  of  human 
feeling,  the  latter  an  eternal  blasphemy  and  violation  of 
human  right.  Knox  is  gleeful,  therefore,  with  a  scornful 
laughter,  over  the  assassination  of  Beatoun,  simply  because 
he  realized  all  the  meaning  of  the  event  for  his  country, 
and  could  not  see  the  downfall  of  a  pov/er  so  hateful  with- 
out a  natural  impulse  of  jubilee.  As  we  look  back  into  the 
dim  gray  of  that  May  morning,  we  only  see  the  solitary 
and  helpless  man  raised  from  his  bed  and  in  the  murderous 
grip  of  his  assassin.  Knox  remembered,  as  if  it  had  hap- 
pened yesterday,  the  proud  and  impious  tyrant  who  re- 
clined on  velvet  cushions  at  the  castle  window,  to  feast  his 
eyes  on  the  torments  of  his  martyred  friend.  A  life  of  such 
dazzling  strength  as  Beatoun's  terminating  so  swiftly  in  an 
abject  and  miserable  death,  may  well  move  us  to  pity  —  it 
could  only  move  Knox  to  irony ;  and  if  the  event  be  not 
one  for  irony,  we  may  say  with  Mr.  Froude,  "  we  do  not 
know  what  irony  is  for." 

Nearly  a  year  subsequent  to  the  death  of  Beatoun  (April 
1547),  Knox  took  refuge  with  his  pupils  in  the  castle  of  St, 
Andrews,  which  continued  to  be  held  against  the  regent, 
notwithstanding  his  efforts  to  reduce  it.  It  becam^e  the 
temporary  stronghold  of  the  reforming  interest,  and  many 
resorted  to  it  for  protection.    Here  Knox  began,  he  tells  us, 


JOHN    KNOX.  265 

*'  to  exercise  his  pupils  after  his  accustomed  manuer.  Be- 
sides their  grammar  and  other  human  authors,  he  red  unto 
them  ane  Catechism  accom})t  whereof  he  causit  them  to 
give  pubhckhe  in  the  paroche  kirk  of  St.  Andrews.  He 
red,  moreover,  unto  them  the  ev^angell  of  John,  proceeding 
where  he  had  left  at  his  departing  from  Langniddrie,  and 
that  lecture  he  red  in  the  chapell  within  the  castle  at  a 
certain  hour."  In  this  modest  way  Knox  introduces  lis  to 
the  great  epoch  of  his  life  which  was  approaching.  Now 
in  his  forty-second  year,  with  his  convictions  fully  formed, 
and  with  obvious  powers  of  expressing  and  defending  them 
beyond  those  of  any  other  man  of  his  time,  he  had  yet  re- 
mained, as  we  have  seen,  silent.  The  awe  and  responsi- 
bility of  speaking  to  the  people  in  God's  stead  weighed 
heavily  on  his  mind  as  on  Luther's,  and  the  arguments  of 
his  friends  failed  to  move  him.  Struck  with  the  "manner 
of  his  doctrine,"  they  "began  earnestly  to  travell  with  him 
that  he  would  take  the  preaching  place  upon  him."  John 
Rongh,  who  was  preacher  in  the  castle,  and  who  seems 
Iwnestly  to  have  felt  his  own  weakness  in  comparison  with 
the  gifts  of  the  reformer,  and  Henry  Balnaves,  a  Lord  of 
Session,  and  one  of  the  most  influential  of  the  early  re- 
formers, joined  in  urging  this  request.  But  he  tells  us,  "he 
utterlie  refuset,  alledging  that  he  would  not  rin  where  God 
had  not  callit  him."  This  refusal,  however,  only  sharpened 
the  desire  of  his  friends  to  see  him  in  his  natural  vocation, 
and  they  devised,  in  company  with  Sir  David  Lindsay  of 
the  Mount,  equally  eager  with  themselves,  a  plan  by  which 
they  hoped  to  smprise  him  into  compliance  with  their  de- 
signs. The  story  is  one  of  the  most  singular  and  charac- 
teristic in  all  the  reformer's  life,  and  can  only  be  told  in  his 
oAvn  language :  "  Upon  a  certain  day  a  sermon  was  had  of 
the  election  of  ministers,  what  power  the  congregation,  how 

23 


266         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

small  so  ever  it  was,  passing  the  number  of  two  or  three, 
had  above  any  man  in  whom  they  supposed  and  espied  the 
gifts  of  God  to  be,  and  how  dangerous  it  was  to  refuse,  and 
not  to  hear  the  voice  of  such  as  desire  to  be  instructed. 
These  and  other  heads  declared,  the  said  John  Eough, 
preacher,  directed  his  words  to  the  said  John  Knox,  saying, 
'  Brother,  ye  sail  not  be  offendit,  albeit  that  I  speak  unto 
you  that  which  I  have  in  charge  even  from  all  those  that 
are  here  present,  which  is  this  :  In  the  name  of  God  and 
of  His  Son  Jesus  Christ,  and  in  the  name  of  those  that  pre- 
sentlie  calls  you  by  my  mouthe,  I  cargo  yon  that  you  refuse 
not  this  holie  vocation,  but  as  ye  tender  the  glorie  of  God, 
the  increase  of  Christ's  kingdom,  the  edification  of  your 
brethren,  and  the  comfort  of  one  whom  ye  understand  well 
aneuch  to  be  oppressed  by  the  multitude  of  labours,  that  ye 
take  upon  you  the  publick  office  and  charge  of  preaching, 
even  as  ye  look  to  avoid  God's  heavy  displeasure,  and  de- 
sire that  he  shall  multiply  his  graces  with  you.'  And  in 
the  end  he  said  to  those  who  were  present,  '  Was  not  this 
your  charge  to  me,  and  do  you  not  approve  the  vocation  ? ' 
They  answeret,  '  It  was,  and  we  approve  it.'  Whereat  the 
said  John,  abashed,  burst  forth  in  niaist  abundant  tears,  and 
v/ithdrew  himself  to  his  chalmer  ;  his  countenance  and  be- 
havior from  that  day  till  the  day  that  he  was  compellet  to 
present  himself  to  the  public  place  of  preaching,  did  suf- 
ficiently declare  the  grief  and  trubile  of  his  heart ;  for  no 
man  saw  ony  sign  of  mirth  of  him,  neither  yet  had  he 
pleasure  to  accompany  ony  man  monye  days  together." 

A  special  necessity  soon  occurred  to  him  to  enter  upon 
his  vocation.  Dean  John  Arran,  "  a  rotten  papist,  had  long 
trublit  John  Enough  in  his  preaching,"  and  Knox  was  roused 
to  vindicate  the  doctrine  of  his  friend  "  in  oppin  audience 
in  the  parish  church  of  St.  Andrews."     The  people  heard 


JOHN     KNOX.  267 

him  gladly,  and  called  upon  him  with  one  consent  to  give 
them  by  his  preaching  "  probation  of  what  he  had  affirmed ; 
for  if  it  was  true,  they  had  been  miserably  deceived."  And 
so  the  next  Sunday  Knox  preached  in  the  parish  church, 
and  expounded  at  length  his  views  of  the  Papacy.  He  at 
once  urged  the  most  decided  opinions,  and  supported  his 
assertions  under  the  different  heads  of  life,  doctrine,  laws, 
and  subjects.  The  sermon  made  a  great  noise,  as  may  be 
imagined;  and  on  the  remonstrance  of  Hamilton,  the 
bishop-elect  (not  yet  "execrated" — "consecrated,"  they 
call  it,  bitterly  remarks  Knox),  with  Winram,  the  sub-prior 
and  vicar-general  during  the  vacancy  of  the  see,  Knox  and 
Rough  were  summoned  to  give  an  account  of  their  doc- 
trine in  a  convention  of  gray-friars  and  black-friars  ap- 
pointed in  St.  Leonard's  Yards.  Certain  articles  were  read 
to  them,  and  are  admitted  by  Knox  to  contain  a  fair  repre- 
sentation of  his  views.  They  are  preserved  in  his  history, 
and  enable  us  to  imderstand  very  clearly,  in  connection 
with  the  dispute  which  followed,  the  position  which  he  now 
occupied.  The  Pope  is  asserted  to  be  Antichrist,  the  mass^ 
abominable  idolatry,  purgatory  a  falsehood,  and  bishops,! 
except  as  ordinary  preachers,  to  have  no  function.  When! 
we  contrast  such  views  with  those  of  Luther  or  Latimer  at 
the  outset,  we  perceive  at  once  what  comparatively  clear 
and  determinate  ground,  as  opposed  to  the  old  Catholic  sys- 
tem, was  taken  up  by  our  reformer.  There  are  no  points 
of  mere  advance  and  improvement  upon  that  system,  —  no 
regretful  dealing,  no  sympathetic  connection  with  it,  —  but 
a  complete  and  decisive  reaction  against  it.  It  is  not 
merely  corrupt,  but  absolutely  abandoned  to  evil  —  the 
church  not  of  God,  but  of  the  devil.  "  Ye  will  leave  us  no 
kirk,"  said  the  gray-friar  (Arbugkill)  who  rashly  entered 
the  lists  with  the  reformer  on  the  occasion,  and,  driven  to 


268    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

shifts  by  his  arguments,  had  nothing  to  reply  but  that  "  the 
apostles  had  not  receaved  the  Holy  Ghost  when  they  did 
write  their  epistles," — "  Ye  will  leave  ns  no  kirk,"  urged 
the  friar.  "  Indeed,"  said  Knox,  "in  David  I  read  that  there 
is  a  church  of  the  malignants  ;  for  he  says,  '  Odi  Ecclesiam 
Malignantium.' "  It  was  clear  that  there  was  no  room  for 
compromise  here.  Knox  could  recognize  no  authority,  no 
sanctity,  no  respectability  in  the  Papacy  of  his  country. 
The  very  order  of  bishops,  as  identified  with  it,  had  already 
become  undivine  to  his  mind.  He  is  a  Presbyterian  all  at 
once,  by  the  mere  force  of  antijtDthy  to  Catholicism  as  it 
presented  itseif  to  his  view.  The  absence  of  positive 
doctrinal  sentiments  in  these  articles  is  observable;  but  too 
much  is  not  to  be  made  of  this.  The  points  of  definite 
negation  to  the  papal  system  were  necessarily  tliose  Avhich 
came  into  most  prominence  ;  and  in  the  sermon  which  was 
the  occasion  of  them,  he  tells  us  that  he  spoke  also  of  the 
'*  doctrines  of  justification  expressed  in  Scripture,  which 
teach  that  man  is  justified  by  faith  alone  —  that  the  blood 
of  Jesus  Christ  purges  us  from  all  our  sins."^ 

Knox's  activity  at  this  period  was  but  shortlived.  A 
French  squadron  appeared  before  the  castle  of  St.  Andrews 
in  the  end  of  June  of  the  same  year;  and  the  brave  gar- 
rison who  had  held  out  so  long,  being  now  pressed  both  by 
sea  and  land,  were  forced  to  capitulate.  The  honorable 
terms  on  which  they  had  surrendered  were  speedily  vio- 
lated; and  Knox,  who  had  shared  the  fate  of  his  comrades, 
was  transported  along  with  them  to  France,  and  then  con- 
fined-as  a  prisoner  on  board  the  French  galleys. 

This  may  be  said  to  close  the  first  great  period  in  Knox's 
life  —  the  period  of  his  preparation  for,  and  commencement 
of,  his  reforming  work.     The   second  period,  which  em- 

'  Piiixc  69. 


JOHN     KNOX.  269 

braces  his  more  or  less  complete  exile  from  Scotland  for  a 
space  of  twelve  years,  or  on  to  1559,  possesses,  in  many 
ways,  great  interest  and  significance ;  but  we  can  only  in 
the  most  general  way  indicate  its  main  incidents. 

His  imprisonment  in  the  French  galleys  for  two  years, 
and  the  sufferings  he  there  endured,  served  to  deepen,  and 
render  still  more  dear  to  him,  his  religious  convictions,  and 
perhaps  also  to  give  some  tinge  of  sadness  and  asperity  to 
his  character.  Then  his  residence  in  England  for  five 
years,  from  1549  to  1554,  was  a  time  fruitful  to  him  in  work 
and  experience.  He  was  brought,  as  one  of  Edward  VI.'s 
chaplains,  into  immediate  contact  with  the  great  agents  of 
the  Anglical  Reformation— with  Cranmer — probably  (nay 
certainly,  we  may  say)  with  Latimer,  who  during  this  period 
was  a  regular  inmate  of  Cranmer's  house  at  Lambeth.  If 
they  did  meet,  the  two  bold  preachers,  they  must  have 
talked,  and  talked  with  a  heartiness,  and  a  vehemence  that 
doubtless  did  the  archbishop,  among  his  court  movements, 
some  good  to  hear.  It  is  understood  that  Knox  had  con- 
siderable influence  in  producing  the  liberal  changes  in  the 
service  and  prayer-book  of  the  Church  of  England  which 
characterized  the  last  years  of  Edward's  reign.  Unqnes- 
tionably,  any  influence  he  did  exert  must  have  been  in  this 
direction,  and  indeed  in  a  still  more  radical  direction;  for 
he  leaves  us  in  no  doubt  as  to  his  views  of  the  partial  and 
imperfect  character  of  the  English  Reformation.  Both  he 
liimself  and  Beza  lead  us  to  suppose  that  he  was  offered  a 
bishopric ;  but  his  conscientious  scruples  as  to  the  divine 
authority  of  the  Episcopal  order,  and  his  general  dissatis- 
faction with  the  state  of  ecclesiastical  affairs  in  England, 
led  him  to  reject  this  as  well  as  any  other  promotion  in  the 
sister  church.  His  activity  in  England  w^as  mainly  con- 
fined to  the  north,  where  he  was  appointed  to  preach,  first 

23=^ 


270         LEADERS     OF    TUE    REFORMATION. 

at  Berwick,  and  then  at  Newcastle ;  and  long  afterwards 
he  congratLilated  himself  on  the  review  of  his  labors  there, 
and  the  success  which  attended  his  efforts  to  maintain 
order  among  the  lawless  garrisons  of  the  Border.^ 

At  Berwick  our  reformer  fell  in  love,  and  entered  into  an 
engagement  which,  some  years  after,  notwithstanding  the 
strong  opposition  of  certain  relatives  of  the  lady,  termin- 
ated in  marriage.  The  lady  was  a  Miss  Marjory  Bowes, 
daughter  of  Richard  Bowes,  the  youngest  son  of  Sir  Balpli 
Bowes  of  Streatlam.  Her  mother  was  the  daughter  and 
one  of  the  co-heirs  of  Sir  Richard  Aske  of  Aske,  and  Knox's 
connection  with  the  family  seems  to  have  arisen  through 
this  lady.  It  is  to  Mrs.  Bowes  that  his  letters,  which  have 
been  recently  published  in  full  in  the  edition  of  Mi'.  Laing,- 
are  chiefly  written.  She  is  addressed  as  his  mother,  and 
in  the  most  confidential  and  intimate  terms.  The  letters 
as  a  v/hole  are  remarkable.  They  prove  the  deep  sincerity 
of  Knox's  piety,  his  intense  absorption  in  the  realities  of 
the  spiritual  life  while  yet  mingling  with  so  busy  and  ap- 
parently combative  an  activity  in  the  affairs  of  the  world 
around  him.  They  are,  in  truth,  rather  the  communings  of 
one  earnest  and  strongly-moved  soul  with  another,  than 
letters  in  any  ordinary  sense.  We  certainly  miss  in  them 
some  mixture  of  mere  human  interest  with  the  uniform  and 
intense  cast  of  the  religious  phraseology  in  which  they 
abound.  The  world  is  out  of  sight  altogether,  save  as  the 
stern  battle-ground  of  certain  shadowy  forms  of  good  and 
evil ;  or  at  least-  the  forms  have  become  shadowy  to  us, 
although  no  doubt  they  were  more  real  and  living  than 
anything  else  to  Knox.     In  vain  we  try  to  catch  any  sun- 

1  Hisiorie,  p.  289.  In  an  interview  Avhicli  he  held  with  the  queen  in  15G1. 
He  says,  on  the  same  occasion,  "In  Berwick  I  abode  two  years,  so  long  in 
Kewcastle,  and  a  yeir  in  London." 

2  Vol.  iii. 


JOHN     KNOX.  271 

light  of  lia})py  feeling  —  any  lively  trace  of  tlie  affection 
associated  with  them,  if  not  originating  them  —  any  glimpse 
of  her  to  whom  his  heart  was  bonnd.  The  mother  ap[)ears 
in  a  sufficiently  distinct  aspect,  a  timid,  self-conscious,  and 
despairing  soul,  ever  seeking  strength  and  counsel  from  the 
more  assured  spirit  of  the  reformer.  The  unyielding  inso- 
lence of  the  uncle  also  comes  into  light  ;^  but  the  daughter 
does  not  move  even  in  shadow  across  the  scene  ;  and  we 
nowhere  learn  anything  of  her.  There  are  no  surviving 
traits  in  his  letters,-or  elsewhere,  that  enable  us  to  start  any 
picture  of  her.  Calvin,  indeed,  talks  of  her  as  "suavis- 
sima"  in  a  letter  to  Cristopher  Goodman,  after  her  death  ; 
and  the  manner  in  which  he  deplores  to  Knox  himself  her 
loss,  indicates  his  very  high  opinion  of  her  worth  and 
amiability;  but  still  we  do  not  get  any  living  likeness  of 
her  anywhere.  Their  marriage  is  supposed  to  have  taken 
place  in  1533,  just  before  he  was  driven  abroad  by  the 
Marian  persecution.^ 

On  the  accession  of  Queen  Mary,  Knox  was  of  course 
driven  from  England,  and  we  find  him  at  various  places  on 
the  Continent,  —  now  at  Dieppe  addressing  letters  to  the 
faithfid  in  England,  and  now  at  Frankfort-  in  connection 
with  the  memorable  "  troubles  "  there,  and  finally  at  Ge- 


1  Sir  Robert  Bowes,  vol.  iii.  p.  378,  Laing's  edition. 

2  It  is  a  singular  enough  fact  that  both  Knox's  sons,  by  tliis  his  first  mar- 
riage, went  to  England,  were  educated  at  Cambridge,  and  entered  the  English 
Church.  They  both  died  comparatively  young,  without  issue,  Knox  mar- 
ried as  his  second,  wife  Margaret  Stewart,  daughter  of  Lord  Ochiltree,  so 
that  both  his  wives  were  of  superior  rank;  and  indeed  the  superiority  of 
rank  in  the  latter""case  gave  rise  to  the  most  ridiculous  rumors.  (See  Nicol 
Burne's  "Disputation,"  quoted  in  Chambers's  Domestic  Annals  of  Scotland.) 
Tliis  second  marriage  took  place  in  15G4,  when  the  reformer  was  in  his  fifty- 
eighth  year,  and  Mrs.  Welch  (whose  heroic  answer  to  King  James  is  well 
known)  and  two  other  daughters  were  the  fruit  of  this  marriage. 


272    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

neva,  where,  after  a  tenij)oraiy  visit  to  Scotland  in  1555,  he 
settled  as  pastor  of  a  small  English  congregation.  The 
years  he  now  spent  at  Geneva  were  probably  among  the 
happiest  of  his  life.  Calvin  had  jnst  then  attained  to  the 
summit  of  his  power,  after  the  expulsion  of  the  Libertines. 
He  and  Beza  exercised  virtual  rule  in  all  things  civil  and 
ecclesiastical ;  and  the  city,  under  their  control,  had  as- 
sumed an  order  and  apparent  purity  of  manner  that  rejoiced 
the  heart  of  Knox.  He  wrote  to  a  friend  that  it  was  "  the 
most  perfect  school  of  Christ  that  ever  was  on  earth  since 
the  days  of  the  apostles.  In  other  places  I  confess  Christ 
to  be  truly  preached ;  but  manners  and  religion,  to  be  so 
sincerely  reformed,  I  have  not  yet  seen  in  any  other  place 
beside." 

In  Calvin  and  Beza,  and  his  colleague  Christopher 
Goodman,  Knox  found  a  thoroughly  congenial  society,  and 
they  found  in  him  an  earnest  and  devoted  fellow-laborer. 
It  would  be  interesting  to  contemplate  their  relation  more 
narrowly,  and  to  speculate  on  the  influence  they  may  have 
exerted  on  one  another.  Especially  it  ^vould  be  important, 
as  Vv^eli  as  interesting,  to  trace  the  connection  between  the 
tv;^o  great  reformers  —  to  what  extent  the  Scottish  reformer 
may  have  been  influenced  by  the  Genevan,  and  a  Calvin- 
istic  impress  stamped  upon  him  in  the  home  of  Calvinism. 
It  cannot  be  said  that  ^ve  have  any  adequate  means  of 
reaching  clear  and  definite  conclusions  on  this  subject. 
/We  have  already  seen  that  Knox's  Presbyterian  ism  v/as,  in 
'  some  degree  at  least,  of  native  growth.  He  did  not  need 
to  go  to  Geneva  to  learn  to  doubt  the  divine  authority  of 
Episcopacy.  A  certain  hostility  to  the  episcopal  office 
mingled  itself  ^vith  his  very  first  views  of  reform,  and,  so 
far  from  being  moderated,  seems  rather  to  have  been  in- 
creased by  his  English  experience.    Probably,  however,  he 


JOHN     KNOX.  273 

had  formed  no  definite  and  well-conceived  plan  of  church 
polit^^,  as  opposed  to  Episcopacy,  before  his  residence  in 
Geneva  ;  and  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  tlie  sys- 
tem he  beheld  in  operation  there  with  so  much  admiration, 
served  to  give  consistency  and  plan  to  his  own  previonsly 
vague  conceptions.  As  to  the  doctrinal  influence  of  Cal- 
vinism npon  him,  we  can  appreciate  this,  perhaps,  still  less 
accurately.  It  met  in  him  a  kindred  soil  —  the  same  bent; 
of  religious  thought,  and  especially  that  deep  feeling  of  sin, 
out  of  which  its  most  distinctive  doctrines  grow;  and  here: 
too,  therefore,  we  may  suppose  a  certain  clearness  and  co-' 
herence  to  have  been  given  to  his  views.  Yet  Knox's 
mind  was  not  characteristically  doctrinal.  Theological  con- 
troversy could  never  absorb  him  as  it  did  Calvin.  Sul)tle 
as  he  may  have  once  been  as  a  scholastic  teacher,  dialectic 
was  a  play  in  Avhich  he  had  little  delight,  and  his  writings 
discover  few  traces  of  it.  A  healthy  reality  and  honest 
sense,  and  living  practical  interest,  are  everywhere  conspic- 
uous, and  banish  out  of  view  the  mere  controversialist  and 
logician. 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  too,  in  estimating  the  relation 
between  Knox  and  Calvin,  .that  Knox  was  really  the  older 
man  of  the  two  (a  fact  somehow  apt  to  be  forgotten),  and 
that  he  had  at  this  time  reached  an  age  —  upwards  of  fifty 
— when  men  are  not  easily  moulded  by  influences  that  may 
be  even  akin  to  them.  We  must  certainly  hold,  there foref, 
that  there  is  no  sense  in  which  Geneva  can  be  said  to  hav© 
made  Knox,  although  it  found  him  of  kindred  material,  anm 
fashioned  him  more  completely  into  its  own  likeness,  Es-* 
pecially,  we  are  inclined  to  think,  it  strengthened  in  him  a 
certain  sternness  of  moral  spirit,  and  its  own  strong  theo- 
cratic confidence,  so  that  he  went  forth  from  it  more  fully 
equipped  for  the  great  work  before  him  in  Scotland.   Calvin 


274         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

and  Knox  suggest  not  so  much  the  relntion  of  disciple  nnd 
master  as  of  brother  disciples  in  the  same  school,  with  the 
same  severe  type  of  character,  and  many  of  the  same  re- 
ligious tendencies  —  but  the  one  more  inteliectua],  the  other 
more  practical;  the  one  more  vehement  and  powerful  in 
argument,^  the  other  more  passionate  and  masterly  in  ac- 
tion ;  the  one  the  greater  mind,  the  other  the  larger  heart. 
Knox  returned  to  Scotland  in  the  beginning  of  Xvlay,  1559. 
During  his  absence,  the  Reformation  had  been  making 
silent  but  sure  progress.  The  war  with  England  required 
the  queen-regent  to  temporize  with  its  leaders,  and  to 
allow  a  certain  liberty  of  oj)inion  and  worship.  A  letter 
which  Knox  had  addressed  to  the  Protestant  Lords  in  1557, 
from  Dieppe  (whither  he  had  proceeded  so  far  with  the  in- 
tention of  returning  to  his  native  country),  had  exerci.-ed  a 
happy  influence  in  uniting  them  more  firmly,  and  inspiring 
them  with  a  more  courageous  rcsolntion  in  defence  of  the 
truth.  At  a  meeting  which  they  held  in  Edinburgh,  in 
December  1557,  they  mutually  bound  themselves  to  up- 
hold the  common  cause,-  and  at  the  same  time  renewed  the 
invitation  which  they  had  formerly  given  to  the  reformer  to 
return  to  his  native  country.  .It  Avas  in  compliance  with 
this  invitation,  which  did  not  reach  Geneva  till  the  follow- 
ing year,  that  Knox  now  reappeared  finally  in  Scotland. 
Nothing  could  be  more  op[)ortune  than  his  arrival.  The 
course  of  events  seemed  prepared  as  if  to  give  to  it  the 

1  Although  Knox  certainly  also  could  be  vehement  enough  in  argument, 
—  as  in  the  First  Blast  against  the  Monstrous  Rtc/iment  of  Woinen,  where  mere 
vehemence  often  obscures  all  sense  and  reason  in  the  argument,  —  still  his 
vehemence  is  even  there  not  concentrated  and  intellectual,  like  Calvin's;  it 
is  the  vehemence  of  feeling,  more  than  of  logic. 

2  The  beginning  of  those  covenants  which  make,  for  more  than  a  century, 
such  a  marked  feature  in  the  history  of  Scottish  Protestantism. 


JOHN     KNOX.  275 

greatest  importance.  A  crisis  was  at  hand  —  a  leader  was 
needed.  It  was  the  very  turning-point  in  the  balance  of 
parties  which  had  been  swaying  to  and  fro  during  the  last 
four  years,  and  Knox's  strong  hand  was  the  only  one 
which  could  have  carried  aloft  the  cause  of  reform,  and 
given  lo  it  the  triumpli  which,  amid  all  temporary  reverses, 
it  has  ever  since  maintained. 

The  queen-regent,  relieved  from  the  political  pressure 
which  had  induced  her  to  temporize,  had  at  length  thrown 
off  all  disguise.  United  cordially  with  the  Hamiltons,  she 
appeared  in  her  true  colors  as  a  determined  opponent  of 
the  Reformation,  and  at  this  very  moment  had,  with  the 
well -dissembled  craft  of  her  race,  laid  her  plans  for  its  for- 
cible overthrow.  Certain  preachers  who,  during  the  pre- 
vious year,  had  become  objects  of  marked  hostility  to  the 
clergy,  were  summoned  to  take  their  trial  at  Stirling  for 
usurping  the  ministerial  office,  and  seducing  the  people  by 
erroneous  doctrines.  A  convention  of  the  nobility  and 
clergy  was  held  in  Edinburgh,  where  the  very  moderate 
demands  of  the  Protestants  were  not  only  refused,  but  all 
the  main  abuses  of  the  Popish  system  were  confirmed,  and 
an  inquisition  appointed  to  be  made  of  all  who  absented 
themselves  from  mass,  or  were  in  any  way  privy  to  the 
new  worship.  It  was  obvious  that  a  struggle  cotild  no 
longer  be  delayed.  Parties  were  taking  their  sides,  and 
resolutely  awaiting  its  outbreak.  Knox  congratulated  him- 
self that  he  had  come  at  the  very  hour  of  need.  "  I  see 
the  battle  shall  be  great,"  he  wrote  to  his  wife,  who  re- 
mained behind  at  Geneva,  "but  I  am  come,  I  thank  my  God, 
even  in  the  brunt  of  the  battle." 

He  resolved  to  appear  at  Stirling  on  the  10th  of  May, 
along  with  the  reforming  preachers.  He  hastened  to  Dun- 
dee,  where  the  chiefs  of  the  party  were  assembled  in  great 


276    LEADERS  OF  THE  REEORMATION. 

numbers,  Erskine  of  Dun  at  their  head,  a  wise  and  mod- 
erate, as  well  as  intrepid  counsellor  in  this  great  exigency. 
From  Dundee  the  reformers  proceeded  to  Perth,  and  in- 
stead of  advancing  directly  to  Stirling,  paused  here,  appar- 
ently at  the  suggestion  of  Erskine,  who  went  forward  by 
himself  to  intimate  to  the  queen-regent  the  peaceable 
intentions  of  the  party,  formidable  as  they  might  seem  in 
numbers  and  combination.  Alarmed  at  the  prospect  of 
such  an  invasion,  she  had  recourse  to  her  usual  tactics  of 
dissimulation,  persuaded  Erskine  to  write  to  his  friends  in 
Perth  to  check  their  advance,  and  promised  to  put  a  stop  to 
the  trial.  On  the  day  of  trial,  however,  the  accused  minis- 
ters were  summoned,  and  outlawed  for  not  appearing,  and 
all  who  should  harbor  them  denounced  as  rebels.  The  na- 
tional excitement,  Avhich  had  continued  to  gather  force,  was 
greatly  strengthened  by  this  flagrant  act  of  perfidy ;  and 
an  event  which  now  occurred  in  Perth  served  to  kindle  it 
into  a  flame. 

^  On  the  veiy  day  on  which  the  news  of  the  regent's 
jieonduct  came,  Knox  preached  a  sermon  on  the  idolatry  of 
ithe  mass,  and  of  image-worship.  At  the  close  of  the  ser- 
pion,  and  while  .the  people  still  lingered  under  the  warm 
emotion  of  the  preacher's  words,  an  encounter  took  place 
between  a  boy  and  a  priest,  who,  with  a  singular  deadness 
to  the  signs  around  him,  had  uncovered  a  rich  altar-piece, 
and  was  making  preparations  to  celebrate  mass.  The  boy 
threw  a  stone,  which  overturned  and  destroyed  one  of  the 
images.  The  act  operated  like  a  spark  laid  to  a  train.  The 
suppressed  indignation  of  the  multitude  burst  forth  beyond 
all  control,  —  the  consecrated  imagery  was  broken  in  pieces, 
the  holy  recesses  invaded,  the  pictures  and  ornaments  torn 
from  the  walls  and  trampled  in  the  dust ;  and,  rising  with 
the  agitation,  the  spirit  of  disorder  spread,  and  the  "  rascal 


JOHN     KNOX.  277 

multitude,"  as  Knox  afterwards  called  them,  having  com- 
pleted their  work  of  destruction  in  the  church,  proceeded 
to  the  houses  of  the  Gray  and  Black  Friars,  and  the  Char- 
ter-house, or  Carthusian  Monastery,  and  violently  ransacked 
them  and  laid  them  in  ruins. 

This  iconoclasm  is  a  notable  featnre  in  the  Scottish  Re- 
formation.    Something  of  the  same  sort,  indeed,  is  to  be 
found  in  Germany,  and  even  in  England  ;  but  in  Scotland 
this  destructive  aspect  of  the  Reformation  was  more  gen- 
eral, prominent,  and  lawless  than  elsewhere ;  and  nothing 
connected  with  it  has  given  rise  to  more  invidious  and 
severe  animadversion.     To  our  educated  feelings  and  ar- 
tistic sympathies,  it  can  only  appear  as  a  very  ugly  and  sad 
blot  in  a  great  cause.     We  mourn,  and  cannot  bnt  mourn, 
a  mere  violence  of  demolition,  in  which   God   Avas   not 
served,  while  the  fair  work  of  man  was  dishonored  and 
destroyed.     Tl^ere  is  no  friend  of  the  Reformation  called 
upon  to  defend  snch  excesses,  even  on  Knox's  plea,  that 
the  "  best  way  to  keep  the  rooks  from  returning,  was  to 
pull  down  their  nests  ;"  for,  on  the  one  hand,  we  know  that 
the  rooks  will  retnrn  even  if  you  pull  down  their  nests;  and 
on  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  poor  revenge  against  a  living  evil 
to  attack  its  mere  dead  shelter.     The  spirit  of  the  highest 
reform  is  everywhere  the  reverse  of  this.     It  attacks  the 
corrupt  Ufe,  and  seeks  to  breathe  health  into  it.     It  busies 
itself  with  essentials,  and  lets  alone  accidents.     The  forms 
will  by-and-by  adapt  themselves  to  the  altered  and  higher 
spirit.     It  was  not  merely  a  misfortune,  therefore  ;  it  was  a 
mistake,  this  iconoclasm  of   the  Reformation.     There  is 
nothing  to  say  for  it  on  general  grounds,  or  on  any  grounds 
of  reason. 

But  the  explanation  of  it,  and  so  far  the  defence  of  it,  as 
a  mere  historical  adjunct  of  the  Reformation,  is  its  very 

24 


278         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

irrationality.     Who  ^vere  to  blame  for  such  a  state  of  irra- 
tional and  violent  feeling  among  the  people  ?     Surely  not 
Knox.     Even  if  it  be  allowed  that  he  did  not  discounte- 
nance, but  rather  approved  of  the  iconoclastic  excitement, 
this  merely  shoAvs  that  be  did  not  so  far  rise  above  the  rude 
social  spirit  of  his  country.     He  can  in  no  way  be  held  re- 
sponsible for  the  existence  and  outbreak  of  this  spirit.     In 
point  of  fact,  the  blame  of  this,  if  it  lie  anywhere  save 
with  the  general  barbarism  of  the  people,  must  lie  with  the 
very  system  against  which  it  was  directed.     It  was  this 
s^^stem  which,  after  centuries  of  unlimited  rule,  had  left  the 
people  so  untrained  in  social  instinct  —  so  coarse  and  un- 
disciplined in  moral  feeling.   This  was  all  that  its  elaborate 
training  and  service,  its  conventual  education  and  benefi- 
cence, had  come  to.     It  had  inspired  the  people  so  little 
with  any  spirit*  of  order,  or  respect  even  to  the  usages  of 
worship,  that  when  for  the  first  time  they  h^sard  of  a  living 
God  and  Saviour,  and  a  divine  righteousness  and  truth  in 
the  world,  they  could  do  nothing  but  rise  up  against  the 
churches  and  demolish  them.     If  this  be  not  one  of  the 
worst  condemnations  of  the  old  Catholicism  of  Scotland, 
condemnation  certainly  ceases  to  have  any  meaning.    It  is 
hard,  certainly,  to  blame  the  Reformation  for  an  odious  in- 
heritance of  social  disorder  transmitted  to  it  by  the  corrupt 
system  which  it  displaced.     A  system  which  not  only  left 
a  people  unblessed  with  truth,  but  failed  even  to  animate 
them  with  any  instincts  of  self-control,  is  twice  condemned, 
and  was  well  hurled  from  its  place  of  pride  and  power  with 
an  indignation  not  more  than  it  merited,  and  a  lawlessness 
which  had  grown  up  under  its  own  shadow. 

The  same  scenes  which  had  occurred  at  Perth,  followed 
at  Stirling,  Lindores,  Cupar,  St.  Andrev/s,  and  elsewhere. 
Knox  almost  immediately  repaired  to  St.  Andrews^  rejoicing 


JOHN     KNOX.  279 

to  verify  his  own  prediction,  uttered  twelve  years  before, 
v/licn  carried  off  from  the  castle  by  the  French  fleet,  that 
"  he  would  yet  again  glorify  the  name  of  God  in  that 
l^lace."  Here,  in  the  very  centre  of  the  old  ecclesiastical 
influence,  and  under  the  very  eyes  of  Hamilton,  the  Ref- 
ormation proceeded  with  an  equal  vehemence  and  com- 
pleteness. The  magistracy  took  the  lead  in  it.  The  catlie- 
dral  was  devastated,  the  monasteries  pulled  down,  and  the 
reformed  discipline  began  to  be  established. 

In  the  meantime,  and  as  the  consequence  of  these 
movements,  a  civil  war  raged  throughout  the  kingdom;  the 
regent  on  the  one  hand,  assisted  by  French  troops,  and 
the  Lords  of  the  Congregation  (as  the  heads  of  the  Pro- 
testant party  were  called)  on  the  other,  imploring  the  succor 
of  Elizabeth.  The  details  of  this  conflict  are  beyond  our 
scope.  Knox  not  only  joined  in  it,  but  was  the  great  ani- 
mating spirit  of  the  reformed  army — counselling  its  leaders, 
writing  letters  to  Cecil,  maintaining  his  dignity  in  the  midst 
of  entreaty,  and,  upon  the  whole,  his  fairness  and  upright- 
ness in  the  midst  of  intrigue.  Some  unfortunate  expres- 
sions, indeed,  escaped  him,  in  a  letter  to  Sir  James  Croft, 
about  the  mode  of  sending  English  troops  into  Scotland, 
without  incurring  a  breach  of  treaty  with  France ;  but  the 
necessities  of  his  position  must  excuse,  if  not  altogether 
justify,  any  "political  casuistry"  to  which  he  was  driven 
At  length,  after  not  a  few  reverses,  sustained  by  the  Pro- 
testant party,  the  vigorous  assistance  rendered  by  Eliza- 
beth, and  the  death  of  the  queen-regent  at  the  very  time 
that  the  English  troops  had  invested  Edinburgh,  led  to  a 
truce,  and  the  summons  of  a  Free  Parliament  to  settle  dif- 
ferences. All  the  triumph  remained  in  the  hands  of  the 
reformers.  So  soon  as  the  withdrawal  of  the  French  troops, 
according  to  the  conditions  of  the  treaty,  took  place,  the 


280         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

ecclesiastical  interests  which  they  had  upheld  fell  prostrate. 
A  tyranny,  unnational  in  spirit  and  disreputable  in  charac- 
ter, collapsed- before  the  free  breath  of  the  country,  like  an 
old  and  mouldy  garment  upon  which  the  air  has  been  let 
in.  Scarcely  anywhere  else  is  there  an  instance  of  a 
national  revolution  at  once  so  summary  and  complete  ;  and 
instead  of  wondering  that  blood  was  shed  while  a  corrupt 
system  sought  to  maintain  itself  by  foreign  interference, 
the  wonder  really  is,  that  so  soon  as  this  interference  was 
witlidraAvn,  so  great  a  change  should  have  taken  pLice, 
upon  the  whole,  so  peacefully  and  well. 

The  Reformation,  which  had  now  triumphed  in  Scotland, 
immediately  sought  to  establish  itself  by  a  series  of  im- 
portant acts.  At  the  command  of  Parliament,  which  met 
in  August  (1560),  "certain  barons  and  ministers"  drew  up, 
in  the  course  of  four  days,  a  Confession  of  Faith,  which 
having  been  submitted  to  Parliament,  and  "read  every 
article  by  itself  over  again," ^  was,  with  the  exception  of 
one  or  two  dissentient  voices,  universally  accepted  as  a 
dogmatic  basis  of  the  Reformed  Church.  Three  measures 
of  a  negative  character  were  also  forthwith  passed;  one 
for  the  abolition  of  the  power  and  jurisdiction  of  the  Pope  ; 
a  second,  for  the  repeal  of  all  former  statutes  in  favor  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church ;  and  a  third,  for  the  infliction  of 
severe  penalties,  even  to  the  extent  of  death,  upon  all 
who  should  either  say  mass,  or  be  present  at  its  celebra- 
tion. The  intolerance  of  this  last  enactment  may  fill  us 
,with  })ain,  but  can  scarcely  surprise  us.  In  the  Scottish 
I  Reformat  ion,  still  more  than  in  the  Lutheran  or  Genevan, 

'  Knox,  p.  253.  Knox's  statement  is,  "  of  the  temporal  estate,  only  voted 
in  the  contrair  the  Earl  of  Atholl,  the  Lords  Somerville  and  Borthwick ;  and 
yet  for  their  dissenting  they  produced  no  better  reason,  but  we  will  beleve  as 
our  fathers  belevit.     The  bischopis  (papisticall  we  mean)  spake  nothing." 


JOHN     KNOX 


281 


the  struggle  Avas  not  between  mere  freedom  on  the  one 
hand,  and  ecclesiastical  oppression  on  the  other,  but  be-  / 
tween  two  positive  systems  of  religious  opinion,  equally  | 
dogQiatic  in  their  presumed  possession  of  the  truth.  We 
have  seen  how,  from  the  beginning,  Knox  had  identified 
the  mass  with  idolatry,  and  in  now  interdicting  its  celebra- 
tion under  such  stringent  penalties,  he  and  others  con- 
ceived themselves  to  be  merely  carrying  out  the  denuncia- 
tion of  the  divine  word  against  idolatry.  Any  suspicions 
that  these  denunciations — whatever  their  original  validity 
—  could  be  no  fair  weapons  in  their  fallible  hands,  and  in 
wholly  dissimilar  circumstances,  never  crossed  them.  The  f 
Bible  was  to  Knox,  as  it  was  to  Calvin,  and  perhaps  even  ' 
more  strongly,  a  modern  statute-book,  of  which  he  and  his 
brethren  were  the  authorized  interpreters.  They  had  no 
perception  of  the  hopeless  confusion  and  difficulty  involved 
in  such  a  notion.  They  had  no  idea  of  any  religious  dis- 
sent from  their  opinions  ;  they  knew  (and  this  is  their  only 
justification)  that  the  reestablishment  of  the  mass  would 
prove  ruinous  both  to  the  political  and  religious  welfare  of 
their  country;  and  so  they  denounced  against  it  confiscation, 
banishment,  and  finally  death. 

These  measures,  conclusive  as  they  were  so  far,  by  no 
means  satisfied  the  ministers  and  more  zealous  reformers. 
It  was  not  enough  merely  to  destroy  the  old  ecclesiastical 
fabric,  and  lay  the  dogmatic  foundation  of  a  new  one ;  but 
they  desired,  moreover,  to  define  and  confirm  the  plan  of 
the  new  Reformed  Kirk.  They  urged  upon  Parliament, 
accordingly,  the  necessity  of  establishing  a  new  rule  of 
worship  and  discipline,  and  with  this  view  prepared  the 
well-known  "  Book  of  Policy,"  or  "  First  Book  of  Disci- 
pline." The  greedy  barons  of  Scotland,  however,  were  by 
no  means  disposed  to  relax  their  hold  of  the  church  reve- 

24# 


282         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

nues  to  the  extent  which  would  have  been  necessary  in 
carrying  out  some  of  the  most  wise  and  enhghtened  pro- 
visions of  this  scheme  of  church  pohty;^  and  notwithstand- 
ing the  urgency  of  the  clergy,  it  never  received  the  sanction 
of  Parliament.  The  great  designs  of  the  reformer  in  the 
arrangement  of  church  offices,  in  the  maintenance  of  dis- 
cipline, and,  above  all,  in  the  reform  and  reendowment  of 
the  universities  and  the  institution  of  parish  schools,  were 
termed,  in  the  "mockage"  of  such  members  of  Parliament 
as  young  Maitland  of  Lethington,-  "  Devout  imaginations." 
And  so  Knox  was  made  to  feel  thus  early  the  difficulties 
which  from  such  men  were  soon  to  spring  up  around  the 
progress  of  Protestantism  in  Scotland,  and  plunge  him 
anew  into  contention.  Disappointed  in  his  hopes  so  far, 
however,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  Book  of 
Discipline  approved  of  by  the  General  Assembly ,''  and  rati- 
fied by  a  considerable  proportion  of.  the  members  of  the 
Privy  Council. 

We  cannot  pause  to  criticize  at  length  the  special  fea- 
tures of  the  Scottish  Reformation  as  exhibited  in  the  Con- 
fession of  Faith  and  Book  of  Discipline,  whose  origin  has 
been  now  described.  Doctrinally  and  ecclesiastically,  it 
bears  an  analogy  to  the  Genevan  Reformation,  although  by 
no  means  a  close  and  servile  analogy.     It  presents,  upon 

'  "  Some  -were  liceutious,"  says  Knox,  "  some  had  greedily  gi'ippit  the 

possessions  of  the  Kirk,  and  others  thocht  they  would  not  lack  their  parts  of 

Christ's  cote," 
2  Waen  Knox  first  proposed  his  schemes  of  Church  reform,  Maitland  is 

reported  to  have  said,  ''Heh,  then,  we  must  forget  ourselves  now;  we  mun 

a'  bear  the  barrow,  and  build  the  house  of  God." 

I  s  xhe  five  m-inisters  engaged  in  the  composition  of  the  Book  of  Discipline 
jare  said  by  Knox  (p.  256)  to  have  been  Jolm  Winram,  John  Spottiswoode, 
I  John  Douglas,  John  Eow,  and  himself.  It  is  supposed  to  have  been  first 
lapproved  by  the  General  Assembly  which  met  5tli  January  1561. 


JOHN     KNOX.  283 

the  whole,  a  milder  type  of  doctrine,  of  which  every  stu- 
dent may  satisfy  himself  by  the  study  of  the  dilicrent 
articles  of  the  "  Confession,"  as  contained  in  Knox's  his- 
tory. The  eighth  article  on  Election  is  itself  decisive  upon 
this  point.  Not  only  is  the  rigor  of  the  Calvinistic  tenet 
modified,  but  it  can  scarcely  be  said  to  come  into  promi- 
nence. The  language  has  a  biblical  softness  and  sim[)lic- 
ity,  not  in  the  least  recalhng  the  stern,  logical  phraseology 
of  Geneva.  The  sacramental  doctrine,  however,  and  the 
views  as  to  the  duties  of  the  "  civil  magistrate,"  are  closely 
allied  to  those  of  Calvin  ;  —  there  is  the  same  strong  asser- 
tion of  the  reality  of  a  spiritual  presence  of  Christ  in  the 
Eucharist,  and  the  same  confusion  as  to  the  relation  of 
the  poUtical  power  to  the  purgation  and  chastisement  of 
religious  error. 

In  the  system  of  church  government  presented  in  the 
Book  of  Discipline,  there  is  at  least  equal  evidence  of  a 
free  and  independent  spirit.  Instead  of  the  mere  pastors, 
doctors,  and  elders  of  the  Genevan  pohty,  there  are  super- 
intendents and  pastors  and  readers,  and  then  elders  and 
deacons.  The  superintendents  were  certainly  not  bishops 
in  the  old  and  Catholic  sense  of  the  word.  Knox,  we  have 
already  seen,  was  hostile  to  the  pretensions  of  the  episco- 
pal order  from  the  beginning,  and  neither  now  nor  at  any 
time  did  he  regard  with  the  shghtest  feelings  of  compla- 
cency its  institution  in  the  Protestant  Church  of  Scotland. 
StiU,  apart  from  such  priestly  usurpations  as  had  become 
strongly  identified  with  the  episcojial  office-  in  his  mind,  he 
evidently  recognized,  in  the  appointment  of  superintend- 
ents, the  right  of  a  semi-episcopal  function  of  supervision 
and  arrangement  throughout  the  church.  If  no  believer  in 
the  divine  right  of  episcopacy,  he  was  no  more  a  believer 
in  the  divine  right  of   Presbyterian  parity ;   but  he,  and 


284 


LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 


those  who  a:  ted  with  hmi,  "  thought  it  a  thing  most  expe- 
dient at  this  time,  that  from  the  whole  number  of  godly 
and  learned  men,  now  presently  in  this  realme,  should  be 
selected  ten  or  twelve  (for  in  so  many  provinces  we  have 
divided  the  whole),  to  Avhora  charge  and  commandment 
sliould  be  given  to  plant  and  erect  kirks,  to  set  order,  and 
ap})oint  ministers  as  the  former  order  prescribes,  to  the 
countries  that  shall  be  appointed  to  their  care  where  none 
are  now."^  Against  the  recognition  of  this  semi-episcopal 
function  in  the  early  Pteformed  Kirk  of  Scotland,  it  is  not 
of  the  least  importance  to  urge,  as  Dr.  M'Crie  has  done, 
that  it  was  a  mere  temporary  expedient ;  for,  in  point  of 
fact,  the  ground  of  Christian  expediency  is  distinctly  laid 
down  in  the  twentieth  article  of  the  Confession  of  Faith, 
as  the  main  guide  of  church  order  and  policy.  "  In  the 
church,  as  in  the  house  of  God,"  it  bears,  "  it  becometh  all 
things  to  be  done  decently  and  in  order  —  not  that  we  think 
that  one  policy  and  one  order  in  ceremonies  can  be  ap- 
pointed for  all  ages,  times,  and  places,  for  as  ceremonies 
such  as  men  have  devised  are  but  temporal,  so  may  and 
ought  they  to  be  changed  when  they  rather  foster  super- 
stition than  edify  the  church  using  the  same."  ^ 

In  the  more  special  arrangements  of  public  worship 
there  is  the  same  flexible  and  adaptive  freedom  within  cer- 
tain limits.  Certain  things  are  stated  to  be  utterly  ne- 
cessary, "  as  that  the  word  be  truly  preached,  the  sacra- 
ments rightly  administered,  co7nmon 2>rmjers  publickly  made, 
that  children  and  rude  persons  be  instructed  in  the  chief 
points  of  religion,  and  that  offences  be  corrected  and  pun- 
ished." Without  these  things,  "  there  is  no  face  of  a  visi- 
ble kirk."     But  as  to  further  details  of  service,  the  singing 

'  First  Book  of  Discipline,  chap.  vi.  "  Knox,  p.  249. 


JOHN     KNOX.  285 

of  psalms,  the  reading  of  certain  places  of  Scripture  when 
there  was  no  sermon  "  this  day  or  that,  or  how  many  days 
in  the  week  the  kirk  should  assemble,"  there  is  no  certain 
order  laid  dowai,  except  that  "  in  every  notable  town  it  is 
required  that  one  day  beside  Sunday  be  appointed  to  the 
sermon,  which,  during  the  time  of  sermon  and  prayer,  must 
be  kept  free  from  all  exercise  of  labour."  Baptism  was 
allowed  to  be  ministered  "  wheresovcr  the  word  was 
preached."  The  administration  of  the  Lord's  Supper  was 
to  take  place  four  times  in  the  year ;  the  Scriptures  were 
to  be  read  in  order  ;  and  both  in  public  and  private  worship 
the  "common  prayers"  were  to  be  used. 

It  becomes  a  question  what  was  meant  by  the  expression 
"  the  common  prayers,"  so  frequently  used  in  the  Book  of 
Disciphne.  Does  it  refer  to  the  service-book  of  Edward 
VI.,  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  ?  This  appears  to  be 
the  prevalent  view  of  its  meaning,  interpreted  in  the  light 
of  the  language  used  in  the  resolution  of  the  heads  of  the 
congregation  in  1557,  that  "  the  common  prayer  be  read 
weekly  on  Sunday,  and  on  other  festival  days,  in  the 
churches,  with  the  lessons  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament, 
conform  to  the  order  of  the  Book  of  Common  PrayerT  Ac- 
cording to  this  view,  the  Enghsh  service-book  is  supposed 
to  have  been  used  by  the  Scottish  Protestants  during  a 
period  of  seven  years,  viz.,  from  1557  to  15G4,  when  it  was 
superseded  by  the  "  Order  of  Geneva,"^  or  what  is  called 
John  Knox's  Liturgy,  which  he  had  prepared  for  the  use  of 

1  This  view  is  maintained  by  Dr.  Camming,  in  his  preface  to  the  edition 
of  John  Knox's  Liturgy,  and  by  the  writer  of  an  interesting  article  in  tho 
Edinburcih  Eevieio  on  the  same  subject  (April  1852);  but  I  have  been  unable 
to  ascertain  on  Avhat  clear  evidence  it  rests.  As  to  the  same  point,  Tytler 
has  the  following  singularly  unsatisfactory  note:— "This  important  fact, 
which  is  now  set  at  rest,  has  been  much  disputed,  and  some  able  writers 
have  come  to  a  contrary  conclusion."  —  Vol.  vi.  p.  119. 


286    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

the  church  at  Frankfort,  and  subsequently  employed  in  his 
congregation  m  Geneva.  In  any  case,  there  can  he  no 
doubt  that  the  early  Presbyterian  service  of  Scotland,  as  in 
the  case  of  every  other  reformed  church,  was  in  the  main 
litm-gical,  that  certain  "common  prayers,"  carefully  prepared 
and  stamped  with  the  sanction  of  the  reformers,  were  gen- 
erally used  throughout  the  church.  The  idea  of  extempo- 
raneous prayer  as  an  appropriate  vehicle  of  public  devo- 
tion, was  one  quite  unknown  to  the  Reformation.  In  the 
reformed  discipline  Avhich  sprang  from  Geneva,  a  certain 
latitude  was  permitted  to  the  minister ;  but  in  no  church 
of  the  Ueformation  was  public  religious  service  entirely  lib- 
erated from  certain  authorized  forms  of  devotional  expres- 
sion. Freedom  carried  to  this  extent  was  a  growth  of 
later  Puritanism,  already  beginning  to  corrupt  in  its  indi- 
vidualistic excesses',  and  in  Scotland  the  general  tendency 
was  hardened  into  a  fierce  and  defiant  negativism  by  the 
insane  prelatical  despotism  of  Laud  and  his  associates. 

But  we  must  now  hasten  onwards  in  our  sketch.  We 
cannot  attempt  to  draw  into  any  full  light  the  remaining 
events  of  Knox's  life  ;  but  there  are  still  two  points  of 
view  in  which  we  must  carefully  consider  him,  before  we 
can  venture,  in  conclusion,  to  give  any  picture  of  the  man 
and  his  work  —  viz.,  his  relations  to  Mary,  and  the  closing 
years  of  his  life  during  the  regencies  of  Lennox  and  Mar. 

From  nothing,  perhaps,  has  the  character  of  the  reformer 
suffered  more  than  from  the  somewhat  singular  relations 
which  he  held  to  Mary  during  her  brief  and  unhappy  reign 
—  relations  which  modern  partisanship  and  modern  gossip 
have  more  than  ever  confused.  A  beautiful  and  accom- 
plished woman,  and  that  woman  a  queen,  confronted  in  her 
hereditary  palace  by  a  gloomy  and  frowning  preacher,  is  an 
interesting  and  exciting  picture  for  the  imagination  ;  but  it 


JOHN     KNOX.  2§T 

is  ill  reality  nothing  more.  The  mind  that  cannot  see 
deeper  below  the  surface  than  the  mere  grace  and  beauty 
and  ideal  majesty  of  Mary  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  rigor 
and  supposed  rudeness  of  Knox  on  the  other,  proves  itself 
so  little  capable  of  historical  penetration,  that  it  must  be 
allowed  simply  to  please  itself  with  its  own  delusions. 
The  slightest  glimpse  below  the  surface  reveals  to  us,  in 
Mary  and  in  Knox  respectively,  the  impersonation  of  two 
great  principles  then  fighting  for  mastery  not  only  in  Scot- 
land, but  throughout  Europe.  Mary  was  not  merely  herself 
a  Ptomanist  by  education,  by  sympathy,  by  that  intense  and 
unreasoning  instinct  with  which  a  certain  kind  of  nature 
always  clings  to  traditionary  beliefs  and  associations  —  she 
might  have  been  all  this,  and  been,  if  not  a  happy  and 
beneficent,  yet  a  tolerated  governor  of  Scotland  ;  and 
Knox's  molestation  of  her  for  her  own  opinions,  and  private 
observances  of  her  own  rehgion,  might  have  excited  at 
once  our  indignation  and  our  sympathy.  Bat  Mary  was 
far  more  than  this,  and  no  man  knew  it  better  than  John 
Knox.  She  was  the  niece  of  the  Guises,  and  the  daugh- 
ter-in-law of  Catherine  de  Medicis;  and  she  Avas  not  merely 
sympathetic  with  their  aims,  but  it  is  impossible  to  doubt 
she  was  privy  to  their  most  deeply-laid  schem.es.  She 
knew  the  great  and  crafty  game  they  were  then  playing, 
and  she  was  prepnred,  with  profound  skill  and  persevering 
energy,  to  aid  it. 

It  requires  us,  in  order  rightly  to  appreciate  the  position 
of  either,  thus  to  look  below  their  more  immediate  circum- 
stances, and  bring  into  vie^v  the  character  of  that  Catholic 
reaction  which  had  now  set  in  so  strongly  against  the  Ref- 
ormation. There  is  nothing  more  certain,  and  few  things 
more  terrible  in  history,  than  this  movement,  in  the  delib- 
erate villany  with  which  it  was  planned,  and  the  secret. 


288    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

powerful,  and  elaborate  perfidy  and  cold-blooded  massacre 
with  which  it  was  so  far  prosecuted.  Its  centre  was  in 
Paris,  although  its  inspiration  was  from  Rome  ;  and  Italian 
craft  and  subtlety  in  the  Guises  were  its  leaders.  Scotland 
possessed  a  peculiar  and  unexampled  interest  to  it,  not 
only  or  chiefly  from  its  old  relations  to  France,  but  espe- 
cially as  a  basis  and  means  of  operation  against  England. 
The  stock  of  Henry  VIII.  seemed  likely  to  die  out;  Ehza- 
beth  alone,  in  her  solitary  majesty,  stood  between  Mary 
and  the  throne  of  England ;  and  with  Mary  as  sovereign 
head  of  England  and  Scotland,  the  triumph  of  Pwome  was 
again  secure  over  all  the  West.  Mary's  position,  then,  was 
in  reality  the  key  to  the  whole  movement,  —  the  full,  com- 
bination, treachery,  and  strength  of  which  Knox  saw  and 
Calvin  saw,  as  but  few  men  of  their  time  did.^  It  is  no 
great  wonder,  then,  that  the  reformer  was  suspicious  from 
the  first,  and  that  he  tried  to  animate  the  milder  Moray 
with  a  persuasion  of  the  danger  which  he  himself  un- 
derstood and  felt.  He  knew  that  the  only  security  of 
Scotland  was  in  its  complete  exemption  from  papal  influ- 
ence, and  that  the  mass,  once  reestablished  by  the  court, 
would  certainly  prove  an  opening  for  the  reJiscendency  of 
this  influence.  This  was  the  secret  of  his  strong  protesta- 
tions to  Moray,  and  of  his  saying,  in  the  clear  knowledge 
of  all  that  it  meant,  and  towards  which  it  pointed,  that 
"one  mass  was  more  fearful  to  him  than  ten  thousand 
armed  enemies." 

It  must  be  observed  that  it  is  not  here  a  question  of  tol- 
eration between  man  and  man,  or  party  and  party,  but  a 
question  of  urgent  national  expediency.     Scotland  could 

1  Knox  "had  then  great  intelligence  both  with  the  Kirk  and  some  of  the 
court  of  France." — Historic,  p.  260. 


JOHN    KNOX.  289 

then  be  only  peaceably  governed  as  a  Protestant  coniTtry, 
and  Mary  of  Gnise  had  virtually  admitted  this  as  with  her 
last  breath.  She  deplored  the  fatal  advice  of  her  brothers 
■which  she  had  followed,  and  counselled  the  removal  of  the 
French  troops  from  the  kingdom.  A  free  and  lawful  Par- 
liament had  since  then  established  the  new  rchgion,  and 
interdicted  the  old ;  and  whatever  may  be  the  intolerance 
of  this  interdiction  in  our  modern  point  of  view,  —  and 
neither  this  nor  any  intolerance  is  to  be  defended,  however 
it  may  be  explained, — yet  practically,  so  far  as  the  head  of 
the  government  was  concerned,  it  was  impossible  to  set  it 
aside,  or  even  infringe  or  show  disrespect  to  it,  without 
utter  confusion  and  disorder,  as  the  events  proved,  and 
everything  showed  at  the  time  to  those  who  had  any  eyes 
to  see.  Apart  from  all  ideas  of  modern  constitutionalism, 
which  are  of  course  inapplicable  to  the  question,  it  was  yet 
possible  to  be  a  sovereign  even  in  Mary's  time,  only  at  the 
expense  of  some  personal  liberty,  and  as  representing  a 
predominant  national  feeling.  War  was  the  only  alterna- 
tive of  the  disturbance  of  the  practical  representative  rela- 
tions of  sovereign  and  people.  But  Mary  had  no  percep- 
tion of  this  ;  and,  notwithstanding  her  pretences,  showed  no 
honest  desire  to  govern  the  country  in  the  spirit  of  its  own 
will  declared  through  Parliament,  and  set  before  her  in  the 
counsel  of  her  brother.  How  could  she,  when  her  move- 
ments were  secretly  dictated  from  Paris,  and  her  whole 
aim  was  to  advance  Catholicism  through  the  subversion  of 
the  existing  ecclesiastical  order  of  the  country  ?  Had  she 
been  less  crafty,  and  more  wise,  — had  she  recognized  her 
position,  and  accepted  it  with  its  restraints,  and  sought  to 
rule  according  to  them,  —  Knox's  interferences  might  have 
continued  to  annoy,  but  could  not  have  imperilled  her. 
No  Stuart,  however,  was  capable  of  this  ;  and  that  Mary 
25 


I 


290         LEADERS     OF    THE     REFORMATION. 

acted  as  she  did,  and  embroiled  the  country  in  worse  con- 
fusion than  before  her  mother's  death,  simply  proved  that 
there  was  no  possible,  not  to  say  no  rightful,  place  for  her 
at  the  time  in  Scotland.  A  "divine  power  to  govern  ill" 
had  become,  even  then,  intolerable  to  the  Scottish  people  ; 
and  surely  we  are  not  to  blame,  but  to  commend  Knox  and 
others,  that  they  saw  thus  early  through  so  false  and  mis- 
erable a  fiction  as  the  divine  right  of  kings.  "  Think  you," 
said  Mary,  in  their  first  interview,  "  that  subjects,  having  the 
povv^er,  may  resist  their  princes?" — "If  princes  exceed 
their  bounds,  madam,  no  doubt  they  may  be  resisted  even 
by  power."  In  these  words  appears  the  essential  contrast 
between  the  two,  and  the  principles  which  they  repre- 
sented. "  Power  is  mine,"  said  Mary.  "  God  has  given  it 
to  me,  and  I  can  use  it  as  I  will.  It  is  divine  simply  ac- 
cording to  my  best  judgment  and  o2:)inion  of  its  mode  of 
exercise." — "  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Knox  ;  "  first  right,  and 
then  might ;  national  interest,  and  then  royal  pleasure  :  and 
there  is  no  other  way  of  governing  the  world." 

In  all  we  have  six  interviews,  recorded  by  Knox  hin^self, 
as  occurring  between  the  queen  and  him.  And  in  all  his 
own  accounts  of  these  interviews,  or  of  Randolph  the 
English  ambassador's  allusions,  there  is  no  evidence  of  in- 
civility or  rudeness  on  the  part  of  the  reformer.  There  is, 
indeed,  a  harsh  tone  in  his  reflections  upon  her  afterwards, 
and  in  the  way  in  which  he  speaks  of  her  "  owling,"  but — 
in  so  far  as  his  own  speech  and  action  in  her  presence  are 
concerned  —  there  appears  rather  a  dignified  courtesy  in 
the  manners  of  the  reformer,  and  a  sincere  and  respectful 
regard  to  her  lawful  authority.^     The  violence  of  debate 

1  It  is  clear,  however,  that  Randolph  interpreted  her  weeping  in  the  same 
way  as  Knox  :  "  Knox  hath  spoken  to  the  qneen,  and  he  made  her  weep, 
as  well  you  know  there  be  of  that  sex  that  will  do  that  for  anger  or  for  grief." 


JOHN     KNOX.  201 

and  passion  of  speech  are  more  on  licr  side  than  on  his,  as 
she  tried  in  vain  to  move  his  cahii  resohTteness.  "  But 
what  have  you  to  do  with  my  marriage?"  she  angrily  urged, 
on  their  fifth  interview,  after  he  had  preached  a  sermon  re- 
flecting on  her  proposed  marriage,  "  or  what  are  you  in  this 
commonwealth?"  —  "A  subject  born  within  the  same, 
madam,"  calmly  replied  the  reformer ;  "■  and  albeit  I  bs 
neither  earl,  lord,  nor  baron  in  it,  yet  has  God  made  m^e 
(how  abject  that  ever  I  be  in  your  eyes)  a  profitable  mem- 
ber within  the  same."  If  this  be  not  courtesy  combined 
with  dignity  under  all  the  circumstances,  we  are  at  a  loss  to 
understand  what  the  qualities  mean. 

In  order  to  understand  the  full  dignity  of  the  reformer's 
conduct  at  this  time,  we  must  remember  that  he  stood 
almost  alone  in  the  position  which  he  now,  in  1563,  sought 
to  vindicate.  Moray  and  all  the  Protestant  nobles  were 
combined  in  the  meantime  Avith  the  queen ;  and  it  is  a 
mere  imaginative  dream  which  supposes  her  bearded  in 
her  palace,  in  the  midst  of  all  her  beautiful  weakness,  by 
the  savage  head  of  a  po^verful  party  in  the  country.  The 
very  reverse  at  this  moment  is  the  fact.  Mary  was  now, 
and  for  some  time  still,  the  object  of  an  affectionate 
enthusiasm  to  the  nobles  and  others  that  surrounded  her,^ 
while  Knox  stood  alone  in  his  discontent  and  indignation. 
Afterwards,  indeed,  when  Mary  had  fallen  from  her  pride 
of  power,  —  when  she  became  a  prisoner,  and  then  a  fugi- 
tive, and  her  fair  name  lay  sulhed  in  the  dust,  and  her 
beauty  was  no  more  a  charm  to  steal  men's  hearts  away,  — 
then,  in  the  dark  and  miserable  time  of  her  misfortunes, 

1  At  the  opening  of  Parliament  in  this  very  year,  the  enthusiasm  found 
vent  in  a  somewhat  profane  manner.  "  There  might  have  been  heard," 
Knox  says,  "  vox  Dianae,  tlie  voice  of  a  goddess,  and  not  of  a  woman :  God 
save  that  sweet  face." — p.  330. 


292    LEADERS  or  THE  REFORM  ATIOX. 

[Knox  was  unpityingiy  severe  and  harsh  m  his  judgments. 
The  Genevan  spnit  of  rigor  then  showed  itself  in  a  man- 
!ner  which  altogether  repels  sympath3\  He  and  all  of  his 
class  were  incapable  of  that  elevation  of  view  which  could 
separate  between  the  woman  and  the  queen,  and  feel 
compassion  for  the  former  when  the  latter  was  no  longer 
dangerous.  It  must  also  be  frankly  admitted  that  there  was 
much  in  the  m.ere  gay  festivities  of  Mary's  life,  the  charms 
of  her  queenly  womanhood,  and  the  social  elegance  of  her 
court,  tliat  were  unintelligible  to  Knox,  and  misinterpreted 
by  him.^  He  could  see  uothing  in  the  gay  gear,  the  gar- 
nishing, targetting,  and  pearls  of  the  court  ladies,  as  he 
stood  in  Mary's  ante-chamber,  but  the  fleshly  vanity  des- 
tined to  be  consumed  by  "  that  knave  death,  that  will  come 
/whether  we  will  or  not."  It  was  the  same  narrow  s})irit 
('that  kept  him  from  pitying  her  fallen  beauty  and  forlorn 
■•  helplessness  when  her  day  of  adversity  came.  But  to 
condemn  him  for  this  harsh  sternness,  and  to  forget  all  the 
genuine  feeling  and  heartiness  and  patriotism  of  the  man, 
is  to  be  guilty  at  once  of  a  crying  injustice,  and  a  weak, 
unhistorical  judgment.  Knox  was  not,  indeed,  a  man  in 
gay  clothing,  to  be  found  in  kings'  palaces,  nor  fitted  for 
them ;  but  he  was  a  true  man;  he  saw  the  reality  of  life, 
although  not  all  that  reality.  Mary  saw  something  in  it 
that  he  did  not  see  ;  but  she  missed  the  living  fact,  which 
was  clear  and  open  to  the  honest  vision.  With  her  higher 
tastes,  she  was  false,  —  false  to  herself  and  her  position  ; 
with  his  narrower  sympathies,  he  was  faithful  to  his  country, 
to  his  God,  to  his  own  dignity  and  self-respect. 

The  closing  years  of  the  reformer's  life  are  full  of  pathos. 
After  the  brief  regency  of  Moray,  when  his  great  work 

1  "  Such  stinking  pride  of  women  as  Avas  seen  at  that  Parliament,  was 
never  seen  before  in  Scotland," — Illslorie,  p.  330. 


J  0  II  X    KNOX.  293 

seemed  ended,  and,  in  the  fulness  of  his  feeling  that  ho 
could  do  no  more,  he  thought  of  retiring  to  Geneva  to  ter- 
minate his  days  in  peace, —  after  this  bright  interval,  came 
ncAV  days  of  darkness,  with  Moray's  assassination.  Things 
returned  to  their  old  confusion  under  the  regency  of  Len- 
nox (who,  too,  was  soon  murdered),  and  then  of  Mar. 
Friends  who  had  been  dear  to  him  —  Kirkaldy  of  Grange, 
and  others  —  forsook  the  cause  of  the  Reformation,  and 
sought  to  reestablish  a  Marian  party  in  Edinburgii.  Ke\ 
had  the  misfortune,  also,  to  differ  from  his  brethren  in  the[ 
Assembly  about  praying  for  the  queen.  Maitland  tried  to 
improve  this  difference  to  his  own  advantage  :  dark  charges 
were  uttered  against  the  reformer,  as  to  his  ha.ving  w^ished 
to  betray  his  country  to  the  English  ;  an  attempt  was  even 
made  to  assassinate  him,  by  firing  a  ball  in  at  the  w^indow 
of  the  room  where  he  usually  sat.  The  heart  of  the  old 
man,  weakened  as  he  was  by  paralysis,  was  deeply 
wounded.  He  felt  bitterly  the  cowardice  of  the  accusa- 
tions made  against  him,  and  answered  in  the  proud  and 
noble  words  —  "What  I  have  been  to  my  country,  albeit 
this  unthankful  age  will  not  know,  yet  the  age  to  come 
will  be  compelled  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth ;  and  thus  I 
cease,  requiring  all  men  that  have  anything  to  oppose 
against  me,  that  they  will  do  it  so  plainly  as  I  make  myself 
and  all  my  doings  so  manifest  to  the  world ;  for  to  me  it 
seems  a  thing  most  unreasonable,  that  in  this  my  decrepit 
age,  I  shall  be  compelled  to  fight  against  shadows  and 
Houiettes  that  dare  not  abide  the  light." 

In  May  (5th)  15^1  he  left  Edinburgh  for  St.  Andrews 
reluctantly,  urged  by  his  friends  to  take  some  means  for  his 
safety.  James  Melville  was  then  a  student  in  St.  Leonard's 
College,  and  we  are  indebted  to  his  gossipy  pen  for  a  very 
graphic  and  interesting  account  of  Knox's  appearance  and 

25* 


294         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATIOX. 

preaching.  The  picture  —  of  the  old  man  in  the  College 
Yard  of  St.  Leonard's,  calling  the  students  about  hi  in,  and 
blessing  them ;  his  weakness,  needing  the  support  of  his 
servant  on  his  way  to  preach  ;  his  vigor  and  warmth  wben 
once  in  the  pulpit  and  kindled  with  his  theme  —  is  very 
striking  and  memorable.  "  He  ludgit  down  in  the  Ab])ey 
beside  our  college,"  says  Melville,  "and  would  some  time 
come  in  and  repose  him  in  our  college  yard,  and  call  us 
scholars  unto  him,  and  bless  us,  and  exhort  us  to  know  God 
and  his  work  in  our  country,  and  stand  by  the  gnde  cause. 
Our  haill  college  was   sound   and   zealous  for  the  gude 

cause  ;  the  other  twa  colleges  not  sae I  heard 

him  teach  the  prophecies  of  Daniel  that  summer  and  the 
winter  following.  I  had  my  pen  and  my  little  bulk,  and  took 
away  sic  things  as  I  could  comprehend.  In  the  opening  of 
the  text  he  was  moderate  the  space  of  half  an  hour ;  but 
when  he  enterit  to  application,  he  made  me  so  to  grao  and 

tremble  that  I  could  not  hold  a  pen  to  write He 

was  very  weak.  I  saw  him  every  day  of  his  doctrine  go 
hulie  and  fear  (slowly  and  warily),  with  a  furring  of  mar- 
ticks  about  his  neck,  a  staff  in  the  ane  hand,  and  gude 
godly  Richard  Ballandene,  his  servant,  holding  up  the 
other  oxter,  from  the  Abbey  to  the  parish  kirk,  and  by  the 
said  Richard  and  another  servant  lifted  up  to  the  pulpit, 
whare  he  behoved  to  lean  at  his  first  entrie  ;  but  ere  he  has 
done  with  his  sermon  he  \vas  sae  active  and  vigorous  that 
he  was  lyke  to  ding  the  pulpit  in  blads  and  flie  out  of  it." 

Such  is  the  living  glimpse  we  get  of  the  reformer  in 
these  last  days.  Weak  and  ill,  his  last  energies  were  ex- 
pended in  the  cause  so  dear  to  him.  He  flinched  not  then 
from  the  battle  that  he  had  waged  so  long ;  and  yet  at 
heart  he  was  sick,  and  "  wearie  of  the  world."  He  sub- 
scribed himself  to  a  book  which  he  now  published  against 


J  0  II  X    KNOX.  295 

a  Scottish  Jesuit  of  the  name  of  Tyrie,  "  John  Knox,  the 
servant  of  Jesns  Christ,  now  wearie  of  the  "workl,  and 
daily  looking  for  the  resolution  of  this  my  earthly  taberna- 
cle," and  asked  his  brethren  to  pray  for  him,  "  that  God 
would  put  an  end  to  his  long  and  painful  battel ;  for  now- 
being  unable  to  fight  as  God  sometime  gave  strength,  I 
thirst  an  end." 

In  August  1572,  he  was  enabled,  by  a  truce  between  the 
contending  parties,  to  return  to  Edinburgh.  He  was  no 
longer  able  to  preach  in  his  old  church,  and  the  Tolbooth 
was  fitted  up  for  him.  Here,  in  the  course  of  September, 
he  thundered  his  dying  denunciations  against  the  perpe- 
trators of  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew.  This  crown- 
ing stroke  of  the  great  reiictionary  party  in  France  touched 
him  to  the  quick,  verifying  all  his  predictions,  and  plunging 
him  in  the  deepest  sadness  for  his  many  martyred  friends. 
He  imprecated,  with  his  last  breath,  the  vengeance  of 
Heaven  upon  the  accursed  murderers;  and  his  cry, with  that 
of  others,  went  up  before  the  throne  with  an  "  Avenge,  O 
Lord,  thy  slaughtered  saints  ! " 

In  the  second  week  of  November  he  was  seized  with  a 
severe  cough,  and  his  end  visibly  drew  near.  He  arranged 
his  aflairs ;  paid  his  servants'  wages,  with  twenty  shillings 
over,  as  the  last  they  would  ever  receive  from  him  ;  and  so 
set  his  house  in  order.  There  was  no  darkness  in  these 
last  moments.  Although  the  sadness  of  the  time  touched 
him,  his  own  spirit  was  cheerful,  as  the  eternal  day  began 
to  break,  and  the  shadows  to  flee  away.  Two  friends,  not 
knowing  of  his  illness,  came  to  dine  with  him,  and  he  in- 
sisted upon  being  present  at  table,  and  })iercing  for  them  a 
hogshead  of  wine  which  was  in  the  cellar,  and  which  might 
as  well  be  drunk  by  his  friends,  now  that  he  was  going  the 
way  when  he  would  no  more  need  it.     "  He  willed  them 


296         LEADERS     OF     THE     REFORMATION. 

to  send  for  the  same  so  long  as  it  lasted,  for  that  he  would 
not  tarry  till  it  was  drunken;" — as  beautiful  a  picture  of 
generous  friendliness  and  "cheery  social"  disposition,  as 
one  can  anywhere  contemplate.  On  the  17th,  and  some  of 
the  following  days,  he  received  his  friends,  his  colleague, 
his  brethren  in  the  ministry,  and,  among  others,  the  Earl  of 
I^Jorton,  whom  he  charged  to  be  faithful  to  God  and  the 
Evangel  in  the  elevation  to  the  regency  which  he  sa,^v  was 
a^vaiting  him.  On  the  evening  before  his  death  he  v/as 
tempted  to  think  of  himself,  and  of  what  he  had  done.  But 
he  repelled  the  temptation  with  the  sentence,  Quid  hahes, 
quod  non  accepisti  ?  The  next  day,  the  24th,  he  got  up  and 
partially  dressed  himself — put  on  his  hose  and  doublet; 
but  the  effort  was  too  much ;  weakness  overcame  him,  and 
he  was  forced  to  lie  down  again.  His  wife  and  faithful 
servant  sat  beside  hira  reading  the  Bible.  He  asked  his 
Vv^ife  to  read  the  15th  chapter  of  1st  Corinthians,  and  said 
when  it  was  finished,  "  Is  not  that  a  beautiful  chapter  ? 
What  svv^eet  consolation  the  Lord  hath  given  me  I  "  Later, 
he  said,  "  Go,  read  where  I  first  cast  anchor;"  and  she  read 
the  17th  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel.  He  fell  into  a  trance 
at  the  time  of  evening  prayer,  and  when  the  physician  in- 
quired if  he  had  heard  then  prayers,  he  replied,  "  Would 
God  that  you  and  all  men  had  heard  them  as  I  have  heard 
them.  I  praise  God  for  that  heavenly  sound."  About 
eleven  o'clock  he  gave  a  deep  sigh,  and  said,  "  Now  it  is 
come."  Then  Ptichard  Bannatyne,  sitting  down  before  him, 
said,  "  Now,  sir,  the  time  that  you  have  long  called  for  —  to 
wit,  an  end  of  your  battle  —  is  come ;  and  seeing  all  natural 
power  now  fails,  remember  the  comfortable  promise  which 
ofttime  ye  have  shown  to  us  of  our  Saviour  Christ :  and 
that  "we  may  understand  and  know  that  ye  hear  us,  make 
us  some  sign,  and  so  he  lifted  up  his  hand,  and  incontinent 


JOHN    KNOX.  297 

thereafter  rendered  up  the  s^urit,  and  sleepit  away  without 
ony  pam." 

A  stern  reaUty,  a  vivid  and  strong  and  somewhat  harsh 
sense  hes  at  the  basis  of  Knox's  character.     He  saw  life 
equally  in  its  individual  and  national  aspects  as  a  great 
fact  before  God  —  a  fact  which  could  only  be  falsified  or  , 
trifled  away  and  abused  in  blasphemy  of  him  who  gave  it, 
and  who  would  require  an  account  of  it.     It  was  this  feel- 
ing of  the  awfid   reality  and   responsibility  of  life  as  a 
divine  trust  and  discipline,  which,  growing  up  in  that  long 
time  of  quietness  and  obscurity  from  about  his  twentieth  to 
his  fortieth  year,  served  more  than  anything  else  to  kindle 
undying  zeal  against  the  Papacy  of  his  country.     Strong 
religious  convictions  no  doubt  animated  him  in  his  reform- 
ing career.     It  is  impossible  to  read  the  account  he  himself 
has  given  of  his  early  sermons  in  St.  Andrews,  as  well  as 
his  subsequent  letters  to  his  mother-in-law,  and  not  see 
that  the  fresh  and  living  study  of  Scripture  had  led  him  to 
very  definite  conclusions  as  to  the  unchristian  character  of 
Romanism,  and  the  perversion  of  doctrinal  truth  that  its 
teaching  and   practices  presented.     Still  he  did  not,  like 
Luther,  primarily  attack  Romanism  from  a  dogmatic  point; 
of  view,  nor  perhaps  were  its  doctrinal  perversions  ever; 
the  main  cause  of  his  intense  and  growing  hatred  to  it.    It 
was  rather  its  utter  immorality  and  godlessness  as  a  practi- 
cal governing  institution — its  contradictions  to  the  truth  of; 
life  and  the  plainest  instincts  of  duty  at  every  point  —  that  ] 
provoked  his  indignation  and  nerved  his  destructive  energy.   ; 
He  felt  that  in  his  own  time  and  country  it  had  become  a 
great  embodied  lie,  dead  in  trespasses  and  sin,  out  of  which 
no  good  could  come,  and  that  therefore  it  could  only  be 
trodden  down  and  buried  out  of  sight. 


298         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

Tliis  was,  no  doubt,  a  stern  view  of  life,  and  of  tlie  world 
around  him.  It  is  a  view  with  which  we  may  have  some 
diflicuUy  in  sympathizing,  as  we  look  back  upon  it  from  the 
free  and  tolerant  atmosphere  of  this  nineteenth  century.  It 
covers  an  element  of  iconoclasm  which  could  only  justify 
itself  in  the  face  of  the  most  obvious  and  unquestionable 
facts.  But  the  facts  are  be^^ond  question.  The  view  was 
one  sternly  demanded  by  the  necessities  of  Scotland  in 
the  sixteenth  century.  Nothing  but  its  absolute  truthful- 
ness forced  it  upon  Knox.  Other  men,  of  less  power  and 
penetration  than  he  was,  —  of  a  less  open  and  piercing 
glance,  searching  not  only  the  manifest  but  the  hidden 
things  of  dishonesty  amidst  which  he  stood,  —  might  have 
been  deceived  by  certain  fair  appearances  in  the  aspect  of 
^  Scottish  Romanism  ;  but  no  varnishings  and  no  artifices 
could  beguile  him.  No  special  pretensions,  no  conventional 
dignities,  could  impose  upon  him,  or  blind  his  strong,  clear 
vision.  He  had  learned  plainly  and  boldly,  as  he  himself 
says,  to  "  call  wickedness  by  its  own  terms,  a  fig  a  fig,  and 
a  spade  a  spade."  The  Pvoman  hierarchy,  therefore,  was 
Antichrist,  and  the  mass  idolatry,  simply  because,  in  Scot- 
land at  least,  they  had  in  his  time  become  absolutely  un- 
moral. All  divine  good  they  had  ever  possessed  had  gone 
out  of  them,  and  left  only  a  noxious  carcass  — a  mere 
tyranny  in  the  one  case,  a  mere  falsehood  in  the  other. 
(  This  spirit  of  severe  reality  animated  him  alike  in  his 
I  political  as  in  his  religious  views.  It  gave  a  hardness,  some 
will  say  a  harshness,  to  his  personal  demeanor.  No  form 
of  civil  polity  was  anything  to  him,  save  in  so  far  as  it  con- 
served the  true  dignity  and  earnest  and  pious  uses  of  life. 
Mary  was  onl^^  queen  in  so  far  as  her  government  was 
good  for  the  countr}^  He  recognized  no  divine  right  in  her 
or  any  one  to  govern,  save  in  so  far  as  they  were  fit  for  it. 


JOHN     KNOX.  299 

The  mere  trappings  of  rule,  its  artificial  splendors,  its  proud 
adornments,  had  no  interest,  and  certainly  no  awe  for  him. 
He  stood  nnmoved  before  them,  and  his  stern  simplicity  re- 
mained imperturbable  alike  under  the  blandishments  and 
the  tears  of  royalty.  As  on  one  occasion  he  left  the  room 
where  he  had  been  holding  interview  with  the  queen,  he 
passed  out  with  a  "  reasonable  merry  countenance,"  some 
of  them  whispered,  "  He  is  not  afraid."  "  What !  should 
the  pleasing  face  of  a  gentilwoman  affray  me  ? "  was  his 
reply.  "  I  have  looked  in  the  face  of  many  angry  men,  and 
yet  have  not  been  afraid  above  measure."  He  did  not; 
know,  indeed,  what  fear  meant,  and  his  heart  leapt  up  at 
the  sound  of  danger.  Never  were  truer  words  than  those/ 
of  the  Earl  of  Morton,  as  they  laid  him  in  the  old  church- 
yard of  St.  Giles,  "  He  never  feared  the  face  of  man.". 
Even  Luther  was  not  more  courageous  in  the  midst  of  ac- 
tual conflict;  and  in  the  boldness  of  consistent  self-respect, 
and  of  undeviating  adhesion  to  what  he  considered  princi- 
ple, Knox  was  the  superior  of  Luther.  Knox  would  never 
have  written  such  letters  as  Luther  did,  both  to  the  Pope 
and  Henry  VIII. ;  and  he  never  would  have  acted  as  the 
German  reformer  did  in  the  affair  of  the  Landgrave  of 
Hesse.  No  consideration  ever  moved  him  to  servility,  and 
no  power  on  earth  would  have  extorted  from  him  unchristian 
submission. 

Out  of  this  fundamental  feature  of  strong  truthfulness 
sprang  alike  his  humor  and  his  bitterness,  —  different  man 
ifestations  of  the  same  spirit.  That  Knox  possessed  a 
thoroughly  hearty  humor,  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  to; 
doubt  who  has  ever  read  his  history.  Its  narrative  is 
touched  everywhere  by  a  humorous  presence,  givmg  life 
and  color  and  movement  to  it,  —  lighting  up,  in  picture.sque 
and  vivid  gleams,  the  very  image  of  the  times.     It  is  not, 


800    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

indeed,  a  simple  humor,  whose  expressions  yoii  can  detach, 
and  look  at,  and  feel  their  laughing  charm  by  themselves, 
as  are  the  manifold  utterances  of  Luther's  rare  and  fertile 
poAver,  or  of  Latimer's  narrower  sympathy.  It  is  rather,  as 
we  have  said,  a  presence  —  a  way  in  general  of  looking  at 
things  and  telhng  about  them,  which  shows  you  the  deep 
nature  of  the  man,  and  how  keenly  all  the  real  aspects  of 
life,  its  comedy  as  well  as  its  tragedy,  its  familiarities  as 
well  as  its  grandeurs,  touched  him.  There  is  but  little 
geniality,  and  scarcely  any  tenderuess  in  it.  It  is  grotesque 
and  scornful,  rather  than  smiling  and  kindly,  —  passing,  by 
an  easy  transition,  into  frequent  bursts  of  bitter,  and  what 
we  would  now  call  violent  and  abusive  attacks.  Still,  even 
the  bitterness  is  hearty,  and  not  cold  and  merely  mocking. 
It  springs  from  the  same  full  fountain  of  sympathy  with  all 
that  is  real  in  life  ;  and  where  he  scorns,  and  is  wild  with  a 
kind  of  savage  glee,  it  is,  in  the  main,  only  against  things 
that  really  deserved  scorn,  and  Avere  dead  to  all  milder  or 
more  tolerant  treatment.  His  soul  was  wearied  witli  false- 
hoods ;  and  if  the  sacred  association  was  not  spared  in  the 
fierce  denunciation,  it  was  simply  because  it  had  lost  utterly 
for  him  all  truth  or  beauty  of  hohness.  Mr.  Carlyle's  ver- 
sion of  his  throwing  an  image  of  the  Virgin  into  the  Loire 
exactly  illustrates  this.  "  Mother  !  mother  of  God,  did  you 
say?  This  is  no  mother  of  God,  but  a  painted  hredd —  a 
piece  of  wood,  I  tell  you,  with  paint  on  it  I  "  And,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  language,  he  dashed  the  consecrated  symbol 
into  the  water. 

i      It  must  at  once  be  admitted  that  there  are  aspects  of  life 
beautiful  and  really  good  that  had  little  or  no  interest  for 
1  Knox.    ^The  sweetness  and  grace  and  cultured  refinement 
and  charm  of  social  politeness,  that  so  mingle  in  our  mod- 
ern existence,  and  which,  from  the  polished  capital  where 


JOHN     KNOX.  SOI 

she  had  spent  her  youtli,  Mary  sought  to  transplant  into 
the  harsher  chme  of  her  native  land,  —  those  festive  exu- 
berances and  "unconfined  joys  "  and  decorated  gayctics, 
that,  amid  all  their  frivolity,  s[)eak  of  a  right-hearted  human 
gladness,  and  of  which  Mary,  in  her  mere  womanly  per- 
fections, may  be  said  to  remain  the  ideal  and  type,  —  v/ere 
unfeJt  and  unacknowledged  by  him.  Mere  beauty  in  na- 
ture or  in  life  had  no  attractions  for  him.  Calvin  is  scarcely 
more  insensible  to  such  attractions,  although  Knox  has  a 
wider  sympathy  with  the  varied  interests  of  humanity,  and 
a  far  deeper  and  more  appreciative  feeling.  There  is  a 
comparatively  keen  though  rugged  sensibihty  in  the  heart 
of  the  Scottish  reformer,  as  passages  in  his  sermons,  and 
many  facts  of  his  life  show ;  and  if  he  could  be  stern  and 
even  cruel  as  Calvin,  he  is  yet  never  so  cold  and  self-sus- 
tained in  his  polemical  rigor.  His  harshness  and  narrow- 
ness were  as  much  the  misfortune  of  Jiis  time  as  his  fault 
as  a  man  ;  and  while  they  cast  a  shade  into  his  portrait,  i 
they  yet  ought  not  to  destroy  the  noble  and  impressive 
lines  that  mark  it. 

His  eloquence  partook  of  the  same  stern,  powerful,  and  ] 
scornful  character ;  it  must  have  been  a  grand  thing  to  hear 
in  those  days,  when  great  national  interests  hung  upon  his 
single  utterances.     His  preaching,  the  English  ambassador 
said,  "  put  more  life  into  him  than  six  hundred  trumpets," 
—  a  headlong,  vehement,  swelling  energy,  ringing  like  aJ 
slogan-ciy,  bursting  in  explosive  shouts,  and  moving  with] 
passionate  convictions  thousands  of  hearts.     There  is  one 
passage  particularly  in  his  sermon  before  the  dissolution  of 
the  Parliament  of  1563,  when  the  arts  of  Mary  were  so 
successful  in  deluding  the  Protestant  nobles,  and  making 
them  pass  from  their  demands  to  have  all  the  proceedings 
of  the  previous  Parliament  of  1560  ratified,  that  rises  to  a 

26 


302         LEADERS     OE    THE    REFORMATION. 

height  of  impassioned  siibhrnity,  with  a  certain  wild  touch 
of  pathos  mingUng  in  and  softening  it.  He  is  appeahng  to 
his  old  associations  with  them,  and  how  in  past  times  he 
had  shared  their  risks  and  danger.  "  I  have  been  with  you," 
he  says,  "  in  your  most  desperate  temptations,  in  your  most 
extreme  dangers  I  have  been  with  you.  St.  Johnstone, 
Cupar  Moor,  and  the  Crags  of  Edinburgh  are  yet  recent  in 
my  heart  —  yea,  and  that  dark  and  dolorous  night,  wherein 
all  ye,  my  lords,  with  shame  and  fear,  left  this  town,  is  yet 
in  my  mind,  and  God  forbid  that  I  ever  forget  it.  What 
was,  I  say,  my  exhortation  to  you,  and  what  has  fallen  in 
vain  of  all  that  ever  God  promised  unto  you  by  my  mouth, 

ye  yourselves  live  to  testify Shall  this  be  the 

thankfulness  that  ye  shall  render  unto  God,  to  betray  his 
cause,  when  ye  have  it  in  your  hands  to  estabhsh  it?"   His 
prayer,  also,  after  the  assassination  of  the  regent  Moray,  is 
sublime  in  its  wild  wrestlings,  and  deploring,  yet  resigned, 
cries  over  the  hapless  fate  of  his  country.^ 
/     Altogether,  if  we  estimate  him,  as  we  are  alone  entitled 
jto  do,  in  his  historical  position  and  circumstances,  Knox 
I  appears  a  very  great  and  heroic  man,  —  no  violent  dema- 
i  gogue,  or  even  stern  dogmatist,  —  although  violence  and 
'sternness  and  dogmatism  were  all  parts,  of  his  character. 
These  coarser  elements  mingled  with  but  did  not  obscure 
the  fresh,  living,  and  keenly  sympathetic  humanity  beneath. 
Far  inferior  to  Luther  in  tenderness  and  breadth  and  lova- 
bleness,  he  is  greatly  superior  to  Calvin  in  the  same  quali- 
ties.   You  feel  that  he  had  a  strong  and  loving  heart  under 
all  his  harshness,  and  that  3^  ou  can  get  near  to  it,  and  could 
have  spent  a  cheery  social  evening  with  him  in  his  house  at 
the  head  of  the  Canongate,  over  tliat  good  old  wine  that  he 

'  M'Crie's  Life,  p.  269. 


JOHN    KNOX.  303 

had  stored  in  his  cellar,  and  which  he  was  glad  and  proud  to 
dispense  to  his  friends.  It  might  not  have  been  a  very 
pleasant  thing  to  differ  with  him  even  in  such  circum- 
stances ;  but,  upon  tlie  whole,  it  would  have  been  a  pleas- 
anter  and  safer  audacity  than  to  have  disputed  some  favor- 
ite tenet  with  Calvin.  There  was  in  Knox  far  more  of 
mere  human  feeling  and  of  shrewd  worldly  sense,  always 
tolerant  of  differences;  and  you  could  have  fallen  back 
upon  these,  and  felt  yourself  comparatively  safe  in  the 
utterance  of  some  daring  sentiment.  And  in  this  point  of 
\'iew  it  deserves  to  be  noticed,  that  Knox  alone,  of  the  re- 
formers, along  with  Luther,  is  free  from  all  stain  of  violent 
persecution.  Intolerant  he  was  towards  the  mass,  towards 
Mary,  and  towards  the  old  Catholic  clergy ;  yet  he  was  no 
persecutor.  He  was  never  cruel  in  act,  cruel  as  his  lan- 
guage sometimes  is,  and  severe  as  were  some  of  his  judg- 
ments. Modern  enlightenment  and  scientific  indifference 
we  have  no  right  to  look  for  in  him.  His  superstitions 
about  the  weather  and  witches,  were  common  to  him  with 
all  men  of  his  time.  Nature  was  not  to  these  men  an  ele- 
vated and  beneficent  idea,  but  a  capricious  manifestation 
of  arbitrary  supernatural  forces.  This  was  part  of  the  in- 
tellectual furniture  of  the  time,  of  which  they  could  no 
more  get  rid  than  they  could  get  rid  of  their  social  dresses 
or  usages.  And  Knox  was  so  far,  as  in  other  things,  only 
a  man  of  his  time. 

As  a  mere  thinker,  save  perhaps  on  political  subjects,  he] 
takes  no  rank;  and  his  political  views,  wise  and  enlight-j 
ened  as  they  were,  seem  rather  the  growth  of  his  manly^ 
instinctive  sense  than  reasoned  from  any  fundamental 
principles.  Earnest,  intense,  and  powerful  in  every  prac- 
tical direction,  he  was  not  in  the  least  characteristically 
reflective  or  speculative.     Everywhere  the  hero,  he  is  no- 


S04         LEADERS     OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

where  the  philosopher  or  sage.  He  was,  in  short,  a  man 
for  his  work  and  time,  —  knowing  what  w^as  good  for  his 
country  there  and  then,  when  the  old  Catholic  bonds  had 
rotted  to  the  very  heart.  A  man  of  God,  yet  with  sinful 
weaknesses  like  us  all.  There  is  something  in  him  we  can 
no  longer  love,  —  a  harshness  and  severity  by  no  means 
beautiful  or  attractive  ;  but  there  is  little  in  him  that  we 
cannot  in  the  retrospect  heartily  respect,  and  even  admir- 
ingly cherish. 

Of  his  special  work  we  have  already  so  far  spoken.  It 
was  a  truly  great  and  noble  work,  though  with  harsh  fea- 
tures in  it,  like  the  man  himself.  Characteristically  it  was, 
according  to  our  previous  statement,  a  comprehending  ex- 
pression of  revived  Christian  interest,  and  of  a  new  and 
I  healthy  national  feeling.  Nowhere  does  the  spiritual  prin- 
,1  ciple  appear  more  prominently  as  the  spring  of  the  Refor- 
mation  than  in  Scotland.  The  reawakened  idea  of  indi- 
vidual relation  and  responsibility  to  God,  and  of  the  only 
possible  realization  of  both  in  Christ,  is  everywhere  the 
living  impulse,  originating  and  carrying  forward  the  move- 
ment. But  there  is  also  more  than  this.  Alongside  of  the 
spiritual  influence,  and  bound  up  with  it  in  a  very  notable, 
expressive,  and  more  complete  form  than  elsewhere,  is  the 
\  principle  of  Nationalism.  The  Scottish  Reformation  was 
(not  merely  a  spiritual  insurrection  ;  it  was  a  national  revo- 
lution—  the  expression  of  a  new  social  life,  which  now  in 
the  sixteenth  century  had  become  the  most  educated  and 
intelligent  in  the  country.  The  two  influences,  civil  and 
religious,  intersected  and  moulded  one  another  in  a  marked 
degree,  though  in  what  degree  exactly  it  is  difficult  to  say. 
In  no  other  way  can  w^e  explain  the  radical  change  that 
then  passed  upon  the  face  of  Scotland,  than  by  the  fact 


JOHN     KNOX.  305 

that  new  social  forces,  which  had  been  for  some  tmie 
working  in  the  country,  came  now  to  the  surface,  and 
stamped  themselves  definitely  upon  its  expanding  civiliza- 
tion. Knox  was  at  once  the  preacher  of  a  free  gospel,  and] 
the  representative  of  this  broader  and  freer  nationality.! 
And  correspondently  with  this  character,  the  movement 
which  he  headed,  and  which  practically  he  carried  forward 
to  triumph,  assumed  from  the  beginning  a  marked  political 
aspect,  and  sought  to  guarantee  itself  in  new  modes  of 
political  as  well  as  spiritual  action.  The  General  Assem- 
bly of  the  Church  was  in  reality  a  Commons'  House  of 
Parliament,  discussing  the  most  varied  interests  of  the 
conntry,  and  giving  effect  to  the  popnlar,  or  at  least  the 
middle-class  feeling,  on  all  the  urgent  cjuestions  of  the  day. 
It  was  the  substantial  national  power  which  the  Assem- 
blies thus  enjoyed,  which  made  them  so  prized  on  the  one 
hand,  and  so  feared  and  hated  on  the  other.  The  clerg3*, 
and  barons  united  with  them,  felt  that  with  the  right  of 
free  assembly  they  were  powerful  against  any  combination 
of  their  enemies.  The  sovereign  and  great  nobles  knew 
that  in  the  face  of  these  Assembhes  they  could  never  hold 
the  country  by  the  old  feudal  bonds  of  government.  It  was 
a  life-and-death  contention  on  either  side;  and  Scottish 
Presbytery  became  thus,  in  the  very  circumstances  of  its 
origin,  and  still  more  in  the  progress  of  its  history,  intensely 
political,  and  could  not  help  becoming  so. 

A  Calvinistic  creed,  and  a  Presbyterian  ritual,  were  the  \ 
shapes  into  which  the  Scottish  Reformation,  not  at  once,  • 
but  very  soon,  and  from  the  growing  necessities  of  its 
position,  hardened  itself  At  first,  we  have  seen,  it  did  not 
bear  any  strong  impress  of  Calvinism  ;  the  aflinity  was 
apparent,  but  the  likeness  was  far  from  rigorous  ;  and  had 
it  been  left  to  its  own  free  national  development,  undis- 

26* 


808    LEADERS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

turbed  by  royal  despotism,  and  its  tool,  ecclesiastical  arbi- 
trariness, it  might  have  matured,  both  doctrinally  and  rit- 
iially,  into  a  form  com})aratively  ex[)ansive  and  cathohc.  It 
might  have  gradually  penetrated  the  old  historical  families 
of  the  kingdom  which  had  hitherto  stood  aloof  from  it,  and 
moulded  the  nation  —  people,  barons,  and  nobles  —  into  a 
great  religious  unity.  This,  hoAvever,  was  not  to  be  its 
fate.  It  Avas  not  destined  to  a  quiet  career  of  diffusion  and 
growth,  but  to  a  career  of  tragic  storm  and  struggle,  in  the 
course  of  wliich,  while  it  kept  its  own  with  a  brave  tenac- 
ity and  a  grand  heroism,  which  shed  an  undying  glory  amid 
the  stormy  gloom  of  its  eventful  history,  it  yet  never  fused 
itself  more  deeply  than  at  first  into  the  outlaying  sections 
of  the  national  life.  The  original  oppositions,  after  the 
lapse  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  years,  reiippear,  only  more 
intensified  and  defined  than  ever ;  and  to  this  day  they 
remain  un effaced,  and  probably  uneffaceable.  Scotland 
presents  in  this  respect,  accordingly,  a  singular  and  original 
spectacle.  While  Presbyterianism,  in  its  scarcely  differing 
shades,  keeps  the  same  vigorous  and  immovable  hold  of 
the  great  heart  of  the  nation,  there  are  yet  certain  traces 
of  sentiment  in  the  country,  transmitted  by  clear  lines  of 
descent  from  the  sixteenth  century,  that  not  merely  lie  out- 
side of  it,  but  apparently  have  no  capacity  of  appreciating 
the  meaning  of  the  main  current  of  the  national  religious 
feeling. 

In  the  course  of  the  opposition  which  it  encountered, 
Calvinism,  in  its  most  rigorous  form,  naturally  became  the 
dogmatic  stronghold  of  the  Scottish  Reformation.  Clear- 
ness, defiiiiteness,  and  a  bold  and  ready  audacity  of  doc- 
trinal opinion,  became  necessary  elements  of  strength ;  as 
the  struggle  vv^ent  on,  and  when  the  Protestant  influence  in 
Scotland  allied  itself  with  English  Puritanism,  and,  in  fact, 


JOHN     KNOX.  307 

l)ecarae  one  of  the  most  prominent  phases  of  Ibe  great 
Puritanic  movement,  it  took  up,  of  course,  the  doctrinal  as 
well  as  the  anti-ritual  peculiarities  of  this  movement,  and 
the  "  Confession  of  Faith"  and  "  Directory  of  Public  Wor- 
ship "  remain  the  marked  monuments  of  this  second  stage 
of  its  histoiy.  Beyond  doubt,  also?  the  more  rigorous  Cal- 
vinism of  the  Confession  was  a  natural  expression  of  the 
Scottish  mind  applied  to  religious  subjects,  sharing,  as  this 
mind  strongly  does,  with  the  French,  in  the  "logical  direct- 
ness "  which  delights  in  great  constructive  systems,  and  in 
the  exhibition  of  coherency  and  theoretical  order,  rising 
from  some  single  principle,  ratlier  than  in  an  adaptive 
earnestness  and  manifoldness  of  opinion. 

The  Calvinism  in  Scotland  seems  at  first  sight  to  have 
enjoyed  a  more  consistent  and  vigorous  life  than  that  either 
of  Geneva  or  of  Holland ;  but  a  nearer  inspection  proves 
that  the  difference  is  more  apparent  than  real.  Scottish 
theology,  such  as  it  is,  has,  in  truth,  undergone  a  series  of 
most  singular  modifications  during  the  last  two  hundred 
years,  from  the  polemical  hardness  and  spiritual  sentimen- 
talisms  of  E-utherford  on  through  the  devotional  and  apolo- 
getic mildness  of  Halyburton,  the  fervid  but  untempered 
earnestness  of  Boston,  the  polite  moralisms  of  Blair,  and 
the  conciliatory  doctrinism  of  Hill  and  Campbell,  to  the 
genial  but  inconsistent  theories  of  Chalmers.  And  of  all 
these  modifications  none  is  more  singular,  and  certainly 
none  less  understood,  than  that  which  sprang  from  the  ad- 
mission of  Jonathan  Edwards's  doctrine  of  philosophical 
necessity  as  constituting  a  renewed  basis  and  point  of 
defence  for  Calvinism.  A  meagre  rationalism,  under  the 
name  of  moderatism,  had  in  the  last  century  eaten  away 
the  heart  of  the  old  Calvinistic  religious  spirit,  when  the 
cold  breath  of  this  new  doctrine  came  as  a  bracincr  resto- 


308         LEADERS     OF     THE    REFORMATION. 

rative  to  the  logical  mind  of  Scotland,  and  it  was  eagerly 
seized  upon  and  embraced  as  a  supposed  mediatrix  be- 
tween philosophy  and  faith.  It  bad  an  inherited  charm  to 
such  a  mind  as  Chalmers's,  and  more  than  anything  seemed 
to  strengthen  him  in  the  old  dogmatic  pathways ;  but  a 
union  so  unnatural  coukl  not  even  be  blessed  by  his  strong 
genius,  and  this  theological  necessitarianism  is  already 
giving  place  before  the  progress  of  a  more  spiritual  phi- 
losophy. 

Whether  the  Scottish  mind  is  at  length  really  about  to 
free  itself  from  its  intense  logical  tendencies,  and  to  ex- 
pand into  a  broader,  more  learned,  and  comprehensive 
theological  literature,  it  is  somewhat  difficult  to  say.  Un- 
doubtedly there  is  in  Scotland,  as  elsewhere,  great  spiritual 
restlessness  under  the  old  dogmatic  bonds.  A  disintegrat- 
ing process  is  at  work  in  the  forms  of  its  religious  life  ;  and 
many,  where  their  fathers  found  living  wells,  look,  and,  be- 
hold, there  are  but  empty  cisterns.  The  danger  of  this 
temper  is,  that  it  may  become  impatient  and  destructive, 
rather  than  inquiring  and  freely  conservative,  and  thus,  as 
in  the  last  century,  that  dogmatism  may  pass  into  rational- 
ism, and  spiritual  earnestness  into  moderate  indifFerentism, 
The  best,  indeed  the  only  safeguard  against  this,  is  the 
growth  of  a  critical  and  historical  spirit,  which,  while  look- 
ing back  with  reverence  to  the  past,  and  appreciating  all 
that  is  good  and  holy  and  great  in  it,  is  not  yet  absolutely 
wedded  to  it  as  a  formula  beyond  which,  or  apart  from 
\\4iicli,  there  can  be  no  life.  There  is  some  hopeful  evi- 
dence of  the  rise  of  such  a  spirit  spreading  from  the  richer 
soil  of  the  English  theological  mind,  and  quickened  by  the 
fertile  light  which  recent  German  research  has  cast  upon 
the  history  of  the  church.  It  were  well  that  this  spirit 
should  ripen  free  from  German  arbitrariness  or  audacious 
self-confidence  of  any  kind. 


JOHN     KNOX.  309 

Perliaps  the  living  study  of  such  men  as  these  pages 
have  feebly  endeavored  to  sketch,  may  be  helpful  in  this 
direction,  —  men  whose  example  of  Christian  energy,  and 
patriotism,  and  piety,  is  so  much  greater  than  their  mere 
dogmatisms.  The  world  may  outlive  the  latter,  —  nay,  in 
so  far  as  they  were  merely  personal  or  intellectual,  it  has 
already  outlived  them;  but  the  former  are  the  needful  salt 
of  its  ever-freshening  life.  We  have  entered  into  the 
labors  of  these  men,  and  fruits  have  sprung  from  them  in 
some  respects  of  a  richer  and  more  enduring  strength  than 
they  themselves  dreamed  of.  Ours  is  the  inheritance, 
theirs  was  the  labor.  While  we  rejoice  in  our  higher  heri- 
tage, let  us  not  forget  those  w^ho  first  broke  the  bonds  of 
spiritual  tyranny.  Let  the  march  of  thought  go  on  :  in  vain 
shall  w^e  try  to  check  it.  But,  while  we  move  forward,  let 
us  revere  the  past ;  and  as  we  s^veep  within  the  gates  of  a, 
New  era,  let  us  look  back  with  admiration  and,  so  fur  as  i 
we  can,  with  love,  if  not  with  regret,  to  the  great  figures  i 
that  stand  at  the  illuminated  portals  of  the  Old. 


THE     END. 


1    1012  01118  8812 


Date  Due 

^^■^..^. 

'-'^'-vi..,.,^^^^ 

f 

\ 
j 

